Set My Chains Free
by CreativeAJL
Summary: Injustice, poverty, slavery, ignorance - these may be cured by reform or revolution. But men don't live by only fighting evil; they live by positive goals, individual and collective, a vast variety of them, seldom, predictable, and at times, incompatible.
1. Restrained

**Prologue Part I:**

* * *

 _Once you feel like you're being dictated by the expectations of other people,_

 _your plans usually backfire._

* * *

 **Bree Andersson**

* * *

I feel cold, prickly fingers digging into my cheek, and the four blackened ovals that remain and discolor my skin still burn, even long after my blood has dried from my veins. To my right, there's a stifled scream, and I can hear _them_ panting.

''Stop squirming or else I'll blow your brain to pieces!'' a man threatens, and the pleasure in his breath, like an animal in heat, is so incredibly clear. _How is this happening? Why is this happening?_

''Get off of me!'' My heart skips a beat, and I can feel the extreme pounding in my chest. That's Louis' voice... Why do they have him here? I thought it was just randoms and myself, not people that I know! Oh, my God, what the hell is going on?

 _It's obvious that you idiots did something wrong._ Despite my hardest efforts to remain mentally strong, my thoughts continue to berate me. _Things like this only happen to Victors who fuck up. You know what the consequences are, don't you?_

A loud smack resonates off of the dense walls and Louis screams something incomprehensible, leaving the entire room left in nothing but an awkward state of silence.

''Permission to shoot, sir?''

''Permission granted. This one's a bit noisy. _Fire!_ ''

Blood splatters against the side of my face and right arm after a gunshot goes off. Something hard slumps to the ground, and then there's a crack and a thump. T-T-They... T-They killed him..?

''Remove their blindfolds and let them see the type of example we'll make of them if they don't cooperate, soldiers.''

 _That voice... I know that voice!_ ''President... Bengel?'' I whisper, trying to convince myself that this isn't him when I know damn well that it is.

''Correct!'' he laughs, just as the blindfold is detached from my eyes and I'm able to see again, yet my vision is currently blurry. Hesitantly, I turn my head to the right and notice Louis slumped over with a hole in his temple, and like any sane human being, I feel a gag in my throat that makes me want to vomit everything that's stored inside.

A flashback of Ceres' lifeless body appears in my mind, as both her and Louis died in the same exact position. To the left of me, Cedria's voice rings out – but with her, it's in the form of a scream.

It's like a baby is crying in a tumble dryer – garbled, muffled, intermittent – but nonetheless, distressing and intense. It's so frightening that the hairs stand straight up on the back of my neck. Up to date, it's the loudest, most piercing scream I've ever heard – a scream of hysteria and disbelief, bordering on terror.

''WHY?!'' she questions. ''WHY'D YOU KIDNAP US AND KILL LOUIS?! WHAT DID WE EVER DO TO YOU?!''

President Bengel slightly turns his head, lets a chuckle of pure amusement escape his chapped, pale lips, and approaches Cedria. ''Oh, I'm sorry, you must not remember the bombing of five Capitol skyline buildings that you pulled off!''

Just like that, Cedria goes quiet. ''Yeah. Now you understand. Well, you see, a long time ago, the Capitol had an _arrangement_ with District Thirteen. We left you guys out of the Games and our lives for a reason, but you three wanted to team up with our newest Victor here and screw everything up! And Bree, oh, Bree! How could you be so foolish?! You know that the Capitol has eyes on you at all times, yet you still went ahead with their ideas. Thought you could lead a team and stray them away from negative circumstances? It's sad, disappointing, and shameful, really.''

 _I didn't wanna do it... Honestly, truly, I didn't. When the idea came up, I was completely against it, but they hit me with the thought of what they expected from a Victor like myself. I didn't know what that meant, but they told me that people were relying on me. In a way, I understand why this is happening, and it's all my fault._

If I took a stand and just put my foot down like I used to, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. There'd be another way, another solution, another probability of actions.

''We... You don't understand— your people, you—''

''A few thousand Capitolites died because of you four,'' he pauses, looking back at Louis' corpse, ''...or should I say, you three?''

''You're despicable!''

''That doesn't change the fact that you killed our citizens!''

''SO?!'' she challenges. ''YOU'VE KILLED OVER FIVE-THOUSAND INNOCENT TEENAGERS!''

''Not all of them were innocent.''

''AND THE SAME CAN BE SAID FOR YOUR CAPITOLITES!'' she retorts. ''HOW CAN YOU BE SUCH A HYPOCRITE?! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ENJOY KILLING KIDS EACH AND EVERY SINGLE YEAR, BUT WHEN IT HAPPENS TO YOU, IT'S A PROBLEM?''

''That was an act of terrorism!'' he contradicts. ''This will go down in history as one of the worst events in Panem's history! District Thirteen has no right to be involved in the business of this country. You are outsiders, but since you want to speak for your entire District, you'll all pay the price. End her.''

''NO! YOU CAN KILL ME BUT MY SOUL WILL NEVER REST! THERE WILL ALWAYS BE SOMEONE ELSE OUT THERE WHO'S PLANNING SOMETHING BIGGER AND BETTER! YOU'LL GET IT ONE DAY; EVERYONE IN THE CAPITOL WI—''

Before it's able to even reach my ears, she dies...

 _Bang!_

The gunshot cracks into the air as loud as thunder, but without the raw power of a storm. It breaks the air with a noise that heralds death and destruction. There's a cruel violence in this disgusting dungeon prison – and there's no escaping because it's windowless, soundproof, and secretive.

''And you, my little friend...''

''No, please,'' I beg, not even letting President Bengel finish the sentence he started. ''Leave Araus alone, he didn't do anything! He's just a kid!''

''How'd you know that I was referring to him?''

''Because he's been the least active in this shit!'' I cry. ''He's only fourteen, let him be! The kid can't do any damage! He's a bubbly, foolish boy who deserves a future, so just... lay off, will you?!''

''What? You believe that I'm going to just let him live? Someone else has to die and receive punishment, Ms. Andersson.''

''Then let it be me! Kill me instead!''

For a moment, he seems to actually think about this request earnestly, but then he responds with, ''Nah! End him, boys. Kids like this who see things that they shouldn't end up coming back ten times worse than before. No hard feelings, son, but you understand, don't you?''

''...Bree? Please... Help me.'' Araus croaks out, staring me straight in the eyes. His pupils are shaking rapidly, and he's determined not to cry, but no matter how hard he tries, the tears still well up and descend to his cheeks.

There's nothing worse than watching someone you've grown close to die right in front of you, and you know you can't do a damn thing to save them. Just like Kaster, I've failed Araus and Cedria and Louis, too.

The bullet hole in his forehead looks nothing like you'd expect from the extensive killings that you witness in Panem. Instead of a neat, reddened hole, it's oozing with dark, congealing blood and a putrid smell that's enough to initiate a gag reflex. I try to raise my hands up to my mouth – but the action is to no avail because they're restrained – and spy the brain matter on the fashionably off-white ground below.

If not for that mark on him and his ice cold, bluish skin, you'd think even he was sleeping.

I should be feeling fear after seeing three of my friends die right in front of me, but I don't. All I can sense right now is hatred – for Bengel, and for myself. This is all _my_ fault! Although, before anything bad happens to me, I want my revenge.

 _...Revenge..._ It's such a strong word, but I want the man in front of me – the man who killed my friends, the man who single-handedly murdered hundreds of harmless people, the man who dropped bombs on a District Six community a few months ago – and all of his assistants dead. And I want them all to feel a severe amount of pain before I slit their throats.

But after that, then what? Is there even an after that? _Will I survive this?_ I don't know, and I don't care what's next, but proceeding subsequently, I plan on doing something drastic, and – if everything works out and falls into my lap – then that's when I'll finish.

''You, though, my dearest Victor, you'll stay alive for as long as I want you to,'' he whispers in my ear.

I look down and bite, feeling an odd coldness on my tongue. Staying silent, I wait and sit still with a few bandages wrapped around my wrists and ankles, listening intently to what he has to say.

Cuffing my cheeks with his hand, he adds, ''You'll tell me everything that I want to know, whether you like it or not. But when I release you, I better not hear of anyone knowing about this little... meeting, okay? If I do, I promise that your family will be dead in the matter of minutes, and District Six will become the new Thirteen.''

Letting go of my face, President Bengel paces around the room with his hands behind his back, purposefully clanging his boots on the tiled floor. Crankily, he asks, ''Now, how did all of this start?''

Thoughts run through my mind as I remain silent yet alert. ''TELL ME!'' he repeats sternly.

''Well—'' I start, coming to an agreement with myself. ''—it's a long story. Got time, asshole?''

''All the time in the world.''

 _Great. I'll tell you what you want to hear, not what you need to hear. Two can play at this game, and if my life's on the line, so be it._

''Fine. I'll tell you everything, but before I spill, I want you to know something.''

''What would that be?''

''For you, Government may be a good, but for people like me, it's an evil; it's only the thoughtfulness and vices of men like you that necessarily make it this way. When all people are good and wise, it'll decay. And trust me, people will be good and wise. One day your little reign will end and the sky will be blue again. You're gonna get what you deserve, and I'll assure of that.''

* * *

 **A/N: Ayee! Welcome to my fourth SYOT! Took me a good minute to actually get here, but a lil' bit of stuff made me wanna get back to ff like I once was so into it and I'm happy with this decision. SYOTs are tiring but fun to write, so here we are. Also, this is a sequel to Secrets Inside. I know there'll be new faces who didn't read it, and even if you did read it, this prologue is probably confusing, too, because I didn't update the final chapter, which I need to actually work on. Starting a new story is always fun, you guys get it, don't you? Hopefully. Everything will be cleared up sooner or later.**

 **Just a few rules to start off this story, 'kay? Everything will be listed on my profile, including the tribute form, so after this go check that out if you're interested in submitting - which I hope you will be. Anyway, first off, send me _whatever_ type of tribute you want. Honestly, I'm down for anything. You've got a killer, a broke boy, a prostitute, LGBT, homophobe, racist, whatever, I don't care. I'll write anything. And I know this is sorta contradicting, but I wanna see new and unique things. Every SYOT story has that one bitch, the overly cocky guy, you know, basic shit like that, and I'd love to see something more expanded upon that, you feel? Secondly, I never have warnings in my stories. I may talk about things that happen in the A/N, but never give a head's up because I don't like spoiling things. If it bothers you while you're reading, feel free to skip over or whatever. Lastly, for strengths and weaknesses, please just use adjectives. None of that ''Good at climbing and fast swimmer'' stuff, please. Oh, and the final thing - have fun. Seriously, don't take the rules too seriously. Be you, be creative, do whatever your heart desires, because it's your tribute and I'll love all of them.**

 **If you read that, thanks. I don't really like enforcing rules and shit like that because I feel as though I sound like a prick, and I'm more of a go with the flow type of guy and accept anything, so I hope I didn't sound old or strict or whatever. Honestly, I'm goofy af and will be chill with whatever you guys have planned. This was just an intro chapter, so not too much is gonna be said from me. Gotta act normal and not get too comfortable with y'all yet, 'cuz I don't know what your expectations are, so I'll do my best, if that means anything? I'm excited to get this thing started, and trust me, this story will be something else. I plan on straying away from the regular things you guys would see and do something I don't think anyone's attempted yet, so hey! Also, a few questions, if you guys wouldn't mind?**

* * *

 **How'd you like to prologue?**

 **Good or bad? Be deadass honest with me, cuz I wanna please both the readers and myself.**

 **Planning on submitting?**

* * *

 **So yeah! That's all for now. If you have any questions, shoot me a PM or whatever and I'll answer. The rest of the rules and the deadline will be on my profile. It's currently Spring Break so ya know ya boy is ready to get shit popping once again, so eheeeeeee! Hope you guys have a wonderful day/night/evening/noon/morning, whatever the hell it is wherever the hell you are. Once again, can't wait to see what tributes I get sent, and have fun! See y'all later!**


	2. Trapped

**Prologue Part II:**

* * *

 _Losing faith in your own singularity is the start of wisdom, I suppose;  
also the first announcement of death._

* * *

 **Milo Bengel**

* * *

I glance down at the paperwork in front of me, as if I'm considering how exactly I'm going to introduce the topic of District Thirteen. Scanning over papers and nodding my head appreciatively is a gesture that I've learned to perform in order to placate the clients and mediators who are likely to display high emotions on being rejected.

''Well, thank you for reviewing and adjusting the terms of our policy with me. The added addition of District Thirteen will surely rile up the crowd today,'' I laugh, amused with the idea of twenty-six tributes fighting to the death rather than twenty-four. ''Things like this provide not only a longer Game, but more entertainment, too.''

''We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Bengel. It's very reassuring to see that you are on the same page as the Government,'' one of the attorneys says. ''We've done all that we could, so the rest is up to you. We'll be awaiting your announcement to Panem in a few minutes. Time's ticking, Sir.''

Footsteps clang against the tiled floor of my office, and as I hear the creaky, polished wooden door open and close, I let out a sigh of relief.

''Who were those people?'' Gari asks. ''They all act like they have a giant stick up their asses. Just listening to their voices made me agitated.''

''Just a few mediators that look after everything I do every now and then,'' I reply, feeling a vein twitching in my forehead. ''They are the most clingy people when it comes to rules and such. I brought up the idea of District Thirteen being officially listed back into the country seven weeks ago – after our latest 'incident' – and they accepted it. But still, for some reason, they constantly want to hover over my back and give me irrational pressure to do everything perfectly.''

''You're the President,'' Gari huffs, rolling his eyes as if my words struck him the wrong way. ''Everything you do is perfect. Bringing those criminals to their knees and enacting social justice; isn't that perfect enough? You'll do great with the introduction, too.''

''Your ass-kissing makes everything _so_ much better, y'know?''

''I try,'' he bows solemnly. After a few seconds of quiet peace goes by, Gari clears his throat and opens up that mouth of his again. Raising my eyebrows, I give him all of my attention and put a cease to my struggling attempt at tying a Windsor knot, curious to hear the important topic that I believe he'll bring up, but then he utters, ''Can we talk about how they didn't pay any attention to me at all? Like, seriously! The greatest Victor in Panem's history, and you don't even spare him a single glance?''

''They had more important matters to focus on. You do realize that not everyone will give you the attention that you crave, right? One day people will forget about you, if you remain this inactive.''

''No the hell they won't!'' he exclaims. ''Unless some other fool achieves fifteen kills in a Game, I doubt anyone will ever cast me aside.''

 _Sure._

Walking over towards my office glass window, I slightly open up the blinds and focus on the congregating audience of Capitolites. _So many different colors, so many similar reactions._

''Whatever you say,'' I shrug, ''but let's not focus on that right now. Today's a good day, so let's think positive thoughts only, 'kay?''

''What's so special about today?'' he questions, removing his gaze from the flat screen television above the counter in the corner. Also, you've got like, fifteen minutes until you gotta go out there. The reporters seem really excited for this event.''

''Forget that,'' I disregard. ''Just come over here. Take time to appreciate the week of Spring, Gari. Look at the blossom that arrives like cake frosting on those trees in delicious creams and pinks. The petals are bursting out from lower down the branches, leaving the tips still in tight bud. Winter's gone, my friend. No more of that freezing, sheltered environment. Spring brings happy vibes, and you know what else brings happy vibes – for us, at least?''

''...The Hunger Games!'' he snaps, understanding my point of view.

''Precisely, young fella!'' Just staring out at the exciting people below and the beautiful, sunlit, soft blue sky brings a smile on my face. _Just two more weeks until the tributes are Reaped. Oh, and don't forget about the volunteers – the most exciting pregame tributes!''_

What's even better is the arena idea that's been planned for them, designed specifically to teach all of the Districts a lesson. A battle against the Capitol will not occur. I do not care how many buildings are crushed, how many lives are lost, how many children go parent-less; everything will remain in order as long as I remain in command.

Once again, the wooden door to my office is opened, and there's more clanging. _Oh, great, them again?_

''Daddy! Gari!'' I hear a high-pitched voice ring out, and Helen's face immediately pops into my mind. ''Guess who's here!''

''The one and only beautiful, precious Helen Bengel,'' Gari flirts, already beginning to irritate me. Slowly, I tilt my head upwards and meet eye-contact with my daughter.

''You already know, sweetheart!'' she struts, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. The first thing that catches my attention are the numerous amount of large, over-sized bags in her hands and her new studded diamond high heels. ''What's wrong, dad? You look upset.''

Placing a hand on my face, I sigh. ''What are you doing? You promised me that you would stop spending so much money on useless items.''

'' _Useless?_ '' she repeats, seemingly appalled by my reaction. Gari gives me a look that reads, 'You're in for it now.' ''Father, this is Margiela, okay? _Mar-gel-uh!_ This is not useless; it's fashion! Something that makes me look better than I ever have in my entire life, and you wanna judge my spending rights?!''

''I've told you constantly to stop spending all of our savings, honey.'' This girl has gotten on my nerves so many times, yet I just can't get a hold of myself to snap some sense into her. ''You never know when we're gonna be in a desperate situation and need it.''

''What are you talking about, 'desperate situation and need it'?'' Dropping her bags instantly, she reaches into both of her tight denim jean pockets and pulls out stacks of money. ''We have racks – and I mean _racks_ – of dough! Seriously, this is enough to buy an entire neighborhood in District One, in only one of my hands! What in the world makes you think that we'll ever run out?''

''Okay, okay, I'm finished with this conversation,'' I shake it off, turning my attention to something else – anything else. _Seriously, I need to change the account password._

''Glad to hear that you've gotten my point across your mind,'' she smiles. ''But, I think it's time for you to go out there and present your new deal, because you're two minutes past airtime.''

Wasting no time, I restrain myself from simply staring at the space in between Helen and Gari and quickly make my way to the third-level story veranda – balcony, whatever you want to call it. Immediately, the harsh rays of sunlight splash a warm aura all over my upper body.

The horrendous smell of freshly-cut grass violates my nostrils as I pass by a row of floral-cushioned wicker chairs, clasp my hands together, and poke my head over the silver-lined railings of my mansion.

When I look down two more levels, well... all I can say is that the crowd is massive; I could hear the cheering and hollering from all the way back in my office, but being out here, in front of the people who basically worship me? It's almost deafening.

What they're doing, I absolutely couldn't. Being in a crowd, it's like being one giant person. There's no moving on your own free will because everybody seems to have the same instincts and gestures. They're like a single moving mass with such a predictable behavior when viewed as a whole – kind of like a shoal of fish, one point of departure, one destination.

I hope I'll stay this way forever, and won't ever have to worry about feeding off the impulses of those around me.

 _Enough thinking, just get this thing over with._ The thought that crosses my mind snaps me back to reality and I begin with...

''Hello, wonderful people of Panem!'' Not even two sentences in and they've already begun cheering again, jostling for a better position and applauding loudly. ''As you know, I have a very special announcement to make today.''

Throughout my many years of Presidency, I've come to realize that happiness is like soda. It's sweet, frizzy, and doesn't last long – just like their smiles.

''I'm sure that you're all aware of the recent act of terrorism upon our great Capitol. It pains me to remember the tragedies that happened not too long ago, and the amount of lives taken because of it. Please, for a moment, let us bow our heads to commemorate the deceased.''

After a minute has passed by, I open my mouth once more. ''This act was done by a group of vigilantes who believed that they could take the law into their own hands. Their identities will not be revealed, because we have dealt with them – and surely, they will not be coming back.''

There are a few grins across the sea of people, but many are booing, frowning, and crying. ''It may come as a shock, but the attackers come from District Thirteen – the forgotten District.''

Their simultaneous gasps are expected, and that's what I receive.

''But don't fret, we have come up with the perfect way to punish District Thirteen for their crimes,'' I sigh deeply, maintaining my composure. ''From now on, District Thirteen will provide one male and one female tribute to participate in the Hunger Games every year starting as of now. There will be no end to this; we gave them a chance a long, _long_ time ago, but they failed to cooperate and must be disciplined!''

Fists are raised into the air, children and babies are held up, mothers are crying tears of joy and fathers are embracing each other with pride for this country. So many myriads of similar faces that all share the same gorgeous emotion that I'm feeling on the inside. The sensation is incredible!

''Thank you, Panem, the _Capitol_ , for viewing our live broadcast. Enjoy the rest of your day and prepare yourselves for the glee we'll be seeking together in the near future!'' I turn sharply, taking one step at a time before I turn back around and snicker to myself, echoing the words, ''And if any District out there believes that they can pull a fast one on us, they shouldn't. Whatever those devious thoughts might be, I suggest you remove them from your monthly meetings and be smart with the actions you take before any casualties occur.''

An uproar of emotion fills my ears as the Capitolites below me jump up and down furiously, excitement written all over their faces. Some of them start to even sing the Capitol Anthem, which forces a devilish smile to cross my lips. Just a few seconds later and it sounds as if the entire audience is one big musical.

 _''Oh, Horn of Plenty,''_ they chant. _''One Horn of Plenty for us all!''_

When I get back into my office, I spot Helen snuggling with Gari... on his _lap_. ''Can you two not?'' I cough out. I used to like this kid Gari – thought that he would be good for Helen – but our connection has gone from a father-son relationship to that of a grown man trying to swat away an annoying ass fly that'll never disappear. Every word, movement and breath he performs infuriates me to no end.

... _Especially_ with my daughter.

''My bad...'' Gari turns his head as he softly pushes Helen off of him, averting his eyes away from meeting my gaze. ''If it means anything, that announcement was great. You still got it, even after all these years.''

''You did really great!'' Helen agrees.

''I guess,'' I shrug it off, not too worried about whether it was good or not, ''but that's not what's important. The _Game_ this year is what's important.''

''What's so special about these Games that's so different from the past thirty?'' Helen inquires. ''It's not like it's a Quarter Quell or something.''

''Might as well be,'' I grin. ''Let's just say that we're revisiting a forgotten past. It's disgusting and vile, but it's a great way to set an example for all of the Districts – who, for some reason, believe that they can step up to us.''

 _But they can't, and they know that. I know that – we all know that._

 _And because of their inability to comprehend that nothing they do will lift their feelings of dismay, they'll watch as the children they know and love suffer from heartache, discrimination, and best of all, pain._

Oh, the puzzled looks on Gari and Helen's faces makes me feel all gooey and ominous on the inside.

I just _hope_ that there'll be similar reactions by the time that the event rolls around. Because, believe me, people have never seen anything like this before.

* * *

 **A/N: Ayee! I hope you didn't just scroll down to the end of the chapter to see if your tribute was accepted or not. Like the good reader you are, I know you'll go back and skim through it, at least ;)  
**

 **Nah, seriously, though, I don't mind. To start this off, sorry for the way overdue chapter. School opened back up, and I enjoyed Spring Break while I could, but it's not as bad as it was the past three quarters so chapters shouldn't be too hard to get up. Laziness takes over, you all know how that goes. This chapter was kind of meaningless, because you guys already know the drill and this could be classified as filler, I guess? Just something to have fun with before the important crap starts. Even so, I hope that it was a good read. Secondly, y'all had me all types of messed up with the whole tribute thing. Initially, I was like, ''Aw, man, not gonna get enough tributes,'' cuz after a week it was really like, ''Whoops, I've fallen off the HG SYOT community and now I gotta build back up,'' but towards the last, like, two days, I get forced with at least 30 tributes and it made it even more difficult to choose who I wanted to write the most and thought would work amazingly with the whole plot of the story. I'm sorry if your tribute wasn't accepted; we don't all get in, and it sucks, but hey, you have a tribute to submit to another recent SYOT, and I guarantee that your tribute will be grabbed. It's gotten easier to know who you want and who you don't, but it still doesn't make you feel like any less of a douche when you have to explain why you didn't take the others instead.**

 **Enough of my rambling, I doubt y'all care too much and just wanna see the blog and the tributes. So, if you wanna check it out, the blog is setmychainsfreehg. blogspot. com. I hope that you'll all gimme a blog review, 'cuz I'm really interested to see your initial opinions on these tributes. If you don't know what a blog review is, it's basically a little go-about where you look at each tribute (their name, S/Ws, picture, all that good stuff) and put 'em in a category of Love, Like, Neutral, Dislike, Hate, or however you wanna. Doesn't matter to me, I just wanna see who you guys are most into and who you're least into. Don't really have too much else to say besides that, so here are the names of the tributes.**

* * *

 **Tribute List**

 **District One:**

Female: Aurora Maran  
Male: Aether Cynephris

 **District Two:**

Female: Camille Lussier  
Male: Cassian Castellan

 **District Three:**

Female: Chayona Watt  
Male: Gideon Alvaro

 **District Four:**

Female: Odessa Adria  
Male: Sota Shirai

 **District Five:**

Female: Imogen Pryor  
Male: Sebastian Hammond

 **District Six:**

Female: Lucretia Hanover  
Male: Lachlan Smith

 **District Seven:**

Female: Natalie Needle  
Male: Condor Teal

 **District Eight:**

Female: Eloise Allegro  
Male: Darren Leicester

 **District Nine:**

Female: Cherokee Franklin  
Male: Millet Arrowroot

 **District Ten:**

Female: Gracie Sullivan  
Male: Mackenzie Ellesmere

 **District Eleven:**

Female: Aaliyah Ransier  
Male: Malik Sherman

 **District Twelve:**

Female: Helena Vasilev  
Male: Aspen Northill

 **District Thirteen:**

Female: Krissy McCoy  
Male: Pavel Elsbeth

* * *

 **Also, the predicted placements that you see for your tributes, yeah, don't take those seriously. Honestly, the entire order could be completely opposite and 1st could place 26th and 26th could place 1st. Just saying, so if your tribute is predicted low, just take it to account and think of it from a Capitol point of view. I just reviewed them and thought of a list that some arrogant Capitolite would place them in. Also, if there are any questions as to why District Thirteen has both 26th and 25th, it's because, well, who would think that two kids from a District that has had no participation in the Games whatsoever and no mentors or experts would make it past the top 15 or so? Their mentors are Capitolites who I don't even know what I'ma do with yet, but it'll be fun, bet. But yeah, that's really all I have to say.  
**

 **Thank you all for your submissions, I'm really grateful of them. I didn't get PMs back from a few people, so if you're reading this now, my bad if your tribute wasn't accepted. But to those that were, I hope you'll all enjoy the ride, 'cuz it's gonna be bumpy af. Also, 10 favorites? Y'all got me all types of fuh-fuh-fuh-fucked up! Nah, I'm playing. I'm appreciative of all the support that this story has gotten, and I can't wait to get officially started with this story. Hope you guys have a wonderful day/night/afternoon/whatever time it is wherever the hell you are. See y'all in a bit! ^^**


	3. Capable

**Reaping Part I:**

* * *

 _Sow an act and you reap a habit.  
Sow a habit and you reap a character.  
Sow a character and you reap a destiny._

* * *

 **Lachlan Smith, District Six**

* * *

Kneeling down on one knee, I examine the striker plate of the opened bathroom door. First thing I notice is that it's mortised into the jamb – which isn't that big of a problem, considering that all I have to do is place it back and tighten the screws with a screwdriver.

''Come on, Lachlan,'' Logan calls. A hazy o-ring floats upwards in front of me, distorting and twisting along its wayward path. ''Hit this blunt.''

He continues to hold it out, even as I wave my hand and reject his offer. Benz immediately sucks on his teeth and groans, saying, ''Come on, just one time. You never smoke or drink with us.''

''Because I have no reason to,'' I fire right back at him. ''Doing drugs and drinking as much as you guys do would resist my memory, and I don't want it to be clogged up from becoming so addicted to it. You guys know I don't take risks like that.''

''You're such a pussy,'' Robby groans. I simply laugh off his insult.

 _Come on, Robby. Really?_

''He's right, Lach. You're a sissy; you never do anything exciting. All you ever do is think of puzzles to solve, riddles to beat, and stupid codes to decipher.''

''Whatever,'' I shrug it off. ''You guys do you, and I'll do me. I don't care for public opinions anyway. What else are they to me besides words?''

''Just as you said – words. That's all,'' Logan comes back into the conversation after taking another hit, filling his system with the responding smoke. Taking more draws, he looks as though he feels extremely delighted, like he'd never felt before. ''Why can't you just take advantages of the things we're able to afford?''

''I just answered that question a minute ago.'' Scratching the back of my head, I sit back down as I finish repairing the doorknob and rest against the adjacent wall. ''I expect better of you guys, but you're all still my friends, and I'll ride with you no matter what.''

My words seem to have calmed them down and made them less pushy. The whole peer-pressure thing? Yeah, not something I'm easily manipulated into falling for. But it's all good. No matter what these guys do, I just love being around them and hanging out. They're easy to talk to, we get along great, and even if they make fun of my passion, I know that it's all in a lighthearted sense.

I'm not gonna lie, though, the smell of whatever they're smoking is so bad, it's as if someone's putting a piece of coal into my lungs. Looking at them happily taking puffs again and again, I wonder if my nose is sensing the wrong thing. The looks on their faces show that they're inhaling flower-scented deodorant or something.

I wanna go stand outside the backdoor and wait for them to finish, but it's actually kind of nice in here – besides the smell, that is.

''Hey,'' I say, grabbing the attention of all three of my friends. ''Say, how exactly did you break that lock, Robby?''

''Oh...'' he slowly turns his head, his eyes dull with heavy lids. His pupils are dilated, and his sclera is bloodshot red, the veins in his eyes more apparent now. ''Well, you see, I was smoking in my room and I heard the front door creaking open. My mom stepped in, and I kind of just reacted... There's no window in my room, so I fidgeted with the doorknob until I heard it snap. Luckily she didn't catch me, but I think she suspected something because I had no time to spray myself clean from the smell.''

At the corner of my thin lips is a crease of amusement. Steadily, the smirk grows wider over my face like a lazy teacher's check mark, the faded ''red ink'' stretching up into my cheek.

''I'm dead!'' Logan falls into hysterics. At the corner of his eyes are small tears that are slowly seeping and falling down his cheek. Wrapping his arm around Benz's shoulder, they pull each other down as they fumble with their hands and continue to let out high-pitched noises. ''Surprised Lachlan isn't shaking his head at you. All of a sudden, he's so laid-back.''

'''Cuz there's no pressure on me to do anything right now,'' I reply. ''His door's fixed, and I'm just chilling with my bros. What reason is there for me to be so serious?''

''R-Respect to you.'' Benz slowly tries to walk over to me, but he stumbles over his feet and sways side-to-side. At a failed attempt to fist bump me, he almost falls over but I keep him up on his feet.

''Did I mention that I was cross faded, too?''

Again, we all return to our state of laughter. ''You're honestly too much to deal wit—''

''Did you guys hear that?'' Benz interrupts, listening as a constant _ding_ goes off.

''Yeah, bro, what the hell was that?''

Shaking my head, I notify them that it's the Reaping Bell that's signifying that we have five minutes remaining to arrive at the Square.

''Aw, man... I totally forgot that that was today! What do we do?''

''Sober up?'' I suggest, since it's the only reasonable option. But I don't even think it's possible to remove yourself from such a high within five minutes.

''You right, you right.'' Just as he says that, Robby rushes over to his mother's kitchen, reaches into one of the cabinets, and pulls out some type of alcoholic drink. ''You think this'll do us any good? It says 'Sparkling Water' on it, and I've been _dying_ to try it ever since I first laid my eyes on it. Anyone down?''

''I don't think that's how you're supposed to—''

''Me!'' Benz shouts.

''Ditto!'' Logan, too, adds himself to their plans of drinking... to help not being—

Actually, forget it. ''You guys are wild.'' Closing my eyes and smiling as I casually walk past them with my hands in my pockets, I utter, ''Catch you guys at the Square in five. Don't take too long.''

* * *

 **Darren Leicester, District Eight**

* * *

After arriving at the Square and getting our fingers pricked, Sean, Joel and I get into the crowded male section for potential eighteen-year-old tributes. Pushing and shoving forcefully, we finally manage to settle down in a spot that's spacious enough for all three of us.

''Damn, can you guys be any more rough?''

Turning my head, I spot a shorter boy, scrawny and uncomfortably weird-looking. ''If you weren't in the way, then there'd be no reason to be rough, now would there?'' I quickly ask him, tilting my head slightly.

''No, I guess not, but you could have just asked for me to—'' he suddenly stops, letting out a fury of coughs, mucus flying out of his mouth and onto the hard, gravelly floor beneath us – he's obviously sick. ''—kindly step aside and—'' There it goes again. ''—make room for you all to enter.''

 _Damn... I just pushed a boy, who probably has some sort of illness, around like a rag doll. That's... all types of messed up._

Instead of apologizing to him, I maintain my bravado and turn my attention back to my friends. Sean's snickering, while Joel's staring at me with a look of uncertainty. Never have I ever seen that look on his face before, but it doesn't mean much – he would've done the same; they both would have.

Showing sympathy is a weakness, that's all. I've learned from my many years on the streets, committing petty crimes and picking up on new skills, that people won't take you for a pushover if you show them that you won't be hesitant nor intimidated by anything that comes your way – even if it's a boy under twice your size that's unable to step up to you.

After a few minutes of chattering, the Escort comes out, steps onto the stage, and loudly chirps into the microphone, announcing herself as Daelina Sherrell. There's feedback, and the entire Square receives some type of blistering ear pain.

''What a fucking bitch!'' I shout, clenching my fists tightly and exposing my teeth. ''She should've tested the mic before stepping out, like normal people do. I hate how stupid these imbecilic Capitolites are!''

''I hear you,'' Sean agrees. ''You ever wonder what it'd be like steal from a Capitolite?''

''All the time.'' I nod my head, looking around to see if anyone is staring at us. Suddenly, an idea pops into my head, and a twisted little smile appears on my face. ''Say, are you guys free after the Reaping? My mom's probably going to be with Veacon – like she always is – so I'm definitely free. When everyone leaves, we could blend into the crowd and _attempt_ to make our way to the Justice Building, or catch her off-guard. Might not be the brightest or most thought-out plan, but it's worth a go, wouldn't you say?''

''That's not bad,'' Joel admits. ''But what about the Peacekeepers? If anything, they need to be taken care of first, but three of us versus— what, like, twenty of them? It's a lose-lose situation, and we could end up being whipped, or _dead_.''

''We'll figure something out,'' I reassure.

''Can you three shut up? I can't hear anything because you just keep talking. Seriously, be quiet, no-one wants to hear about your—''

Whipping around, I cut off the person talking by grabbing their shirt, yanking them forward, and headbutting them rapidly, two times. ''Shut the fuck up!'' Gritting my teeth, I pull back a fist and steady my aim for his nose, but then I hear the Escort call out a female's name.

''Elloise Allegro!''

The cameras on the jumbotron zoom in and out, then finally pan in on a girl with straggly brown hair and clear, seastorm eyes. Her frazzled nerves all jump together at the same time, producing a girl who makes her way up to the stage by laughing nervously all the way there. Something in me starts to tingle, and I can't help but feel that she doesn't deserve this.

This girl is no older than sixteen years old, so why does she have to go through this? Why do _any_ of us have to go through this? It's unfortunate, man, it really is...

After being asked if she has anything to say, Elloise just continues to laugh – I suppose that's her go-to move for every discomforting situation she encounters.

''Now for the males!'' The way she sounds so elated to pick a boy who's most likely going to die... Her prissy, expensive outfit that stands out... She thinks she's so great because _she_ doesn't have to get picked to risk her life in some bogus arena; _she_ doesn't have to worry about being hunted down by a pack of rich kids who are trained to murder; _she_ doesn't have to worry about being bet on and chased by mutts!

But no sooner does my flow die in my thoughts when she pulls out a slip, removes the envelope, and smiles softly when she reads over the name. My feelings are so tightly compacted that I let go of the person I was holding on to, feeling like my chest will go super nova.

''Interesting name,'' she nods for some reason, as if she's stating that she likes it. ''Darren Leicester!''

At the call of my name, I instantly feel my face fall faster than a corpse in cement boots. My skin becomes gray, my mouth hangs with with lips slightly parted, and my eyes seem to stretch as wide as they can. There isn't even a point in lashing out and yelling at the Escort for choosing my name. There's no point in even looking at anyone other than her, hoping that a volunteer will take my place.

''Hey!'' I hear yelling from the back. ''That kid has _my_ suit on! He and his friends stole it from me about a half hour ago!''

Just the slight sound of a Peacekeeper's boots rounding the center of the aisle and approaching my frozen structure is enough to release the breath that I didn't even know I was holding. With a sigh, my shoulders relax and my face deflates as if the tension has been lifted, yet left me with a melancholy instead of relief.

Rushing out of the group, I reapply my act and march forward with a bold, confident look on my face. _That's it, that's how you approach these assholes._

They won't know me as anything less than a tribute who's not afraid to get his hands dirty, I swear.

 _And those shitty, self-absorbed Capitolites are gonna get what's fucking coming to them._

* * *

 **Aurora Maran, District One**

* * *

Do I really want to do this?

Jameson should be volunteering today, not me. He's better, more fit, and more intelligent. What am I compared to him?

 _Nothing but a failure. The twin that didn't succeed, and won't succeed. Don't even volunteer. Just let yourself fall and realize that nothing you do can amount to anything that he does. Your parents don't even expect anything great from you anymore, you're just a waste of spa_ —

''Girl, hello?'' Karia snaps in front of my face, removing me from my painful thoughts. There's an annoyed look on her face, telling me that I've been out of it for way too long. ''This is your big day and you're out here daydreaming? You could've missed your chance if I didn't knock you out of... whatever that was.''

''I'm sorry.'' Slowly, I rub the side of my shoulder and slump my head downward. My thoughts got the best of me again, and they continue to criticize me for my faults. _Of course._ ''I-I was kind of just … lost?''

''Yeah, I could tell.'' She already knows. ''What's wrong, are you thinking too much again?''

The nod of my head tells her yes. ''Then stop it! Seriously, there's no reason for you to think that you're not ready for this. With all the training that you've had, you're the perfect contender from our District to volunteer. Block out whatever insecurities that you have and realize that you're better than you think.''

Just like that, the butterflies escape from the pit of my stomach, and the way that the morning sun shines over the crystal blue sky makes a home right in my heart. Reaching forward with both hands, I grab Karia by her shoulders and wrap her in a warm swaddle of my chest and arms. I don't want to leave because her compliments make me feel as if all my pain has gone away – all of the _mental_ pain.

After she returns the embrace and we finally part, I begin to wish that I could keep her around me like a well-worn sweater forever. ''This is why you're my best friend,'' I smile. ''You know just the right words to make a girl happy.''

''But the things that I say are true. When you think about it logically, what other girl can move like you? After all of the ballet that you've been taking to aid you, you could easily swerve through obstacles and dodge any attacks that come your way. Your chances of winning—''

''Are one out of twenty-six.'' Realistically, that's exactly what they are. I'm not going to let her say that I have the greatest chance of winning when neither of us even know what the competition will be like.

''You're something else, you know, Aurora?'' Attributed to her words, I can feel the giggles rolling out of me like waves on a long, shallow beach. They disappear for a while, but only to build back up and break to the surface once more. I know that it's not appropriate for such a situation, but I can't help myself.

Finally, after a few minutes of only compliments, Karia begins to enjoy herself, too, by laughing with me. ''You just have the kind of smile that makes people feel happy to be alive, and just a little bit more human.''

''Thank you, misses,'' I bow, feeling a tad bit more rejuvenated. This is the best time for us to have finished our short back-and-forth conversation, because the Escort comes out, introduces himself, and begins to read the Treaty of Treason. Like always, there's a video expected to be played – and Dolce is a tad bit too excited to begin displaying it.

The only unexpected aspect of the Reaping this year is that the video is a bit more... gruesome. Promptly, the first thing the crowd reacts to is the stack of bodies that pile on top of each other and lay like ghoulish mannequins, their esophagus' and arteries sticking out like so much corrugated and rubber tubing. It looks as if some special effects team had worked overtime in order to make sure that the bodies looked realistic enough, but the Capitol isn't fooling anyone – these _are_ real bodies. _Tribute_ bodies; _child_ bodies; and _adult_ bodies.

After the horrifying scene dissipates from the screen, Dolce marches over towards the females' bowl. Before he picks a name, he has to shake his frizzled blue hair in the blowing wind and sigh deeply, as if he just drank some type of refreshment after a long run. ''That was absolutely beautiful, wasn't it?''

Like the Career District we are, everyone in the audiences begin to chant and cheer. A few familiar faces that I recognize don't exactly agree with what was just shown, but they won't say anything about it – you _can't_ in a District like this.

Each and every single year, we expect someone to make it to the Feast and at least bring back some sort of accomplishment that the District can relish on – but not everyone has what it takes. Take Adonis and Blush from last year as an example. Both died shamefully and terribly... And Blush was just a fingertip away from the Feast.

''This is why I'm overjoyed whenever I hear that I'm assigned to this District!'' he claps, jumping for joy in his over-sized shoes. ''You people know exactly where the fun is at. Not only that, but, oh, my God, your fashion sense, your beauty, your charisma – everything about you people is amazing! Not as amazing as us Capitolites, though. But I don't need to tell you that because you already know!''

Once he finally settles down and calms himself, he dips his hands into the bowl with his latex, gold-trimmed gloves, and plays around with his fingers until he finds an envelope that feels ''satisfactory.''

''I wonder if...'' He doesn't even finish his sentence before he moves on to a different subject. ''Oh, who am I kidding? There's gonna be a volunteer no matter who is picked!'' Tearing the slip to pieces, he echoes out the name ''Anamaria Dorley.''

My hand shoots up automatically, and the words, ''I volunteer!'' slip out of my mouth before I can even catch them. The girl, Anamaria, steps right outside of the seventeen-year-old section right as I jump out of my own.

''You go, girl!'' I hear Karia encourage, and that only fuels me even more. I had anticipated all of the stares, but never the whistles and hollers of my name. _Not in a million years would your parents ever give you this type of treatment._

''So that's why I gotta work for it and show them how successful I can be,'' I whisper to myself, bowing my head to my chest until I reach the stage.

First step... _I'm on the right path to accomplishing what I've been craving for so long._ Second step... _They'll love me and appreciate me once I come back victorious._ Third step...

I'll _earn_ their admiration.

* * *

 **Chayona Watt, District Three**

* * *

From the inside of my waiting room, all that's present is the most hysterical crying, my screaming sobs only being interrupted by the need to draw a breath. It's sort of a primal sound – one that we, as human beings, are programmed not to ignore.

I feel as though every Peacekeeper out in the hallway is turning their head, caught between the impulse of checking on me – most likely not – and staying out of the way. But it doesn't matter, because whatever they decide to do, their days won't be altered.

 _I'm_ facing death, and _I'm_ unable to do anything about it – not them.

Soon enough, a Peacekeeper _does_ open the door, its creaking noise bringing a chill down my spine. It sounds like some dying animal, crying out in pain and sorrow with its last breath.

All five of my sisters – Layla, Sharon, Abby, Shanice and Sheila – burst through the door, pushing the Peacekeeper aside as they rush towards me. Layla cups my face in her hands and looks me dead in the eye, the tears slowly streaking down her own face.

''I am _so_ sorry,'' she apologizes, making me feel even more upset, ''for everything that I've said and done. I swear to you, I meant none of it. When I told you that you weren't even part of this family... I-I didn't mean it, seriously. I've made multiple jokes that have gone too far, but this... This is the most twisted thing that could ever happen to any one of us.''

Turning my head, I look away from my siblings, afraid to say anything. They've made fun of me for stuttering due to my nervousness a multifarious amount of times. Who says they won't do it again?

Sharon cries as if the ferocity of it might reverse time; as if by the sheer force of her grief, the Reaping selection will be undone. Hesitantly, I open up my mouth and sniff before asking, ''I-I-I th-thought you didn't c-care about m-me?''

''Of course I care about you!'' Sharon nearly blows a fuse in her brain. ''Just because I've always viewed you as the black sheep of the family doesn't mean that I actually _hated_ you. Chayona, you're my sister – you're related to me by _blood_ – how could I ever actually despise you?''

''I-I... I don't have an a-answer to that...''

''Look,'' Sheila speaks up. ''This is terrible, okay? I'll admit that for so many years, we've brought you down to the point where you didn't even want to speak to anyone. I hate myself for pushing you so far, and now that we're in this predicament, I can't help but feel as though this is my fault.''

'' _We're?''_

''No, _you_ ,'' Shanice fixes Sheila's mistake. ''Listen, you're brilliant, Chayona. You've always been so interested in new types of inventions and different things to learn about. You're crafty, creative, and you have the brains to think of some way to get out of the Games alive. We've all seen it done before – that clever tribute from Three who somehow manages to survive with a bit of luck on their side. That... That could be you this year.''

''T-Thank you,'' I sniff, wiping away at my tears. A small crease tugs at my lips, and I can't control the apparent smile that now resides on the lower half of my face.

Although, through my peripheral vision, I notice Abby standing there, her legs shaking and her lips quivering. After catching sight of me glimpsing at her, unable to see clearly through her puffy eyes, she tumbles to the floor, her own tears falling thick and fast.

Jumping out of my seat like my life depends on it, I quickly wrap myself around the warm embrace of the only sister that actually showed me love throughout my days at home – she never scolded me for screwing up a few times; she never told me that she wished I had disappeared; she never informed me that I wasn't an important piece when it came to the family.

''Thank you.'' I place a soft, particularly wet kiss on her forehead and pull her closer to me. ''You've always b-been by my s-side when no-one else had b-been. Y-You were l-like a second m-mother to me, and I n-never got to tell you how m-much I a-appreciate everything that you've done for me.''

''Don't talk like that!'' she orders. ''You're speaking as if you've already given up, like you're accepting death without putting up a fight! I don't want to hear anything other than positive things coming out your mouth, do you hear me?''

''Y-Yes.''

''Good,'' she wipes away the tears. ''Now, do you have the family bead necklace that we made? Like, on you right now?''

''I do,'' I say, taking it out of my pocket and placing it in front of her with the palm of my hands.''

''Do you remember what the colors represent?''

''Yeah, d-definitely. G-Green is y-yours because y-you've always had a g-good, i-innocent and t-thoughtful personality. It's a-always been my f-favorite besides my o-own.''

''Remember me – remember _us_.'' She grabs me by my shoulders, holding on and clutching them tightly with her soft, sweaty, shaking hands. ''When you feel lonely, look at the colors and think of us watching you, rooting for you to survive another day, and live on so that you can come back to us. And when you do, I'll be waiting to run up and tackle you, wrap you in a warm blanket, and take you back home.''

''I-I'm gonna m-miss you so much—!''

The door opens again — this time with a slam — and with a forceful tone, the same Peacekeeper from before orders my sisters to leave the room immediately. One-by-one, they all give me a goodbye hug until only Abby remains. The Peacekeeper has to pry her off of me, prompting the floodgates to reopen once more.

 _The most sad part about this is that neither mom or dad visited me. For all I know, work probably called. ...Or maybe dad's still mad at me and convinced mom into not showing up. But... he wouldn't do that. He'd never be this petty over a fire. I just hope that they're at least thinking about me._

My chin trembles once again as if I'm a child. Breathing heavier than I ever have before, I gasp for the air that simply isn't there. My throat burns from a silent scream, and I finally understand what it feels like to cry – what it _truly_ feels like to cry. A part of me is dying inside, but yet... I feel relieved.

The only thing I could've wished for came true: my sisters finally showed their loving side to me, and it wasn't fake. It was genuine love...

And I couldn't have asked for more.

* * *

 **Odessa Adria, District Four**

* * *

''You do realize that I have to escort you to your waiting room, right?''

Pushing the Peacekeeper away from me with a little shoulder bump, I slip away from his grasp and move at least seven feet away from him. ''Obviously I do,'' I snarl at him, ''but you don't have to get all touchy with me. Just show me where to go and I'll follow. You don't have to hold my hands behind my back and get so close.''

''You're speaking to me about close?'' he asks, sounding flabbergasted. As we approach my destined door, I turn around and catch a quick glimpse of that Sota kid. _He beat Branson?_ He looks like a fool to me. ''You literally just punched my shoulder and stepped on my boots!''

''Yeah, yeah, whatever.'' I give him a haughty look, patiently waiting for him to open up the door so that I can enter the room. When he finally does, I slip inside, take a seat on the comfy, violet couch chair, and say, ''People of your authority treat others like this everyday. It shouldn't be a problem when it happens to you, now should it.''

As he closes the door, the single word, ''Hypocrite,'' leaves his lips. _That's what I thought_ , I want to say, but he's already gone. There would be no point in letting them out now.

I adjust myself presently, taking in my surroundings and looking at the Capitol style decor in awe. It's pretty, but I'm not going to spend the entirety of my time daydreaming about how beautiful the city is. A personality like that doesn't have a place outside of home – I should show them that I'm ready, determined, willing, and unafraid to do what I have to do.

After all, I'm finally here – where I want to be, and where I _need_ to be.

A few seconds after my thoughts flow through my mind and I go into a deep thinking, Branson walks into the room, being accompanied with his hands behind his back.

''Odessa,'' he says silently, but it's not in a bad way or anything. He just looks happy for me. With anyone else, I'm a lioness. With Branson, I'm a rabbit. One look from him and the fight, sarcasm, and ruthlessness leaves my body. He sees me for who I am inside, quells the inferno in me, and transforms it into passion for life. ''I'm so proud of you! My parents couldn't make it, but they want you to know that they're so happy to see you make it as far as you have, and they wish you nothing but the best.''

I rise from my seat and let the happiness soak right into my bones. Closing my eyes, I savor this moment and reach out for his arm, grab it, and immediately bring him into a headlock, where I begin to furiously give him a noogie. ''When you go back to them, let 'em know that I love and thank them for treating me so well.''

''Ah, alright!'' he laughs, messing with me right back. With a soft elbow, he pokes at my stomach and manages to escape my hold. After our fit of laughter, I put a hand on his shoulder and smile.

Then, I kind of just stop. ''I'm really sorry that you didn't make the cut,'' I apologize. ''I was really hoping that you would, because me and you, together – in the Games – we could have easily ruled the arena and eliminated the competition within two days.''

''Don't be sorry about that,'' he reassures. ''It's not that serious. The important thing is that _you_ made it, and rightfully so. You've always had it in you, and the Academy recognized that. You don't know how elated my family and I are to see you succeed. And besides, I'd prefer you make it out alive without me in the arena with you rather than only one of us coming out victorious and the other one, you know, dead.''

''Yeah, but you're deserving of it, too!'' I nearly shout. ''We share the same drive, the same competitive personality, the same—''

''Hey,'' he cuts me off, putting a finger up to my lips. ''I mean it, there's absolutely nothing to worry about.''

''Branson, I...'' Without even thinking, I have both of my arms swung around his neck, standing up on my tippy toes, hugging him. ''I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me. A few years ago, if someone told me that I'd be blessed with such an amazing friend like you, who would give me hope, a home, and even more of a reason to keep fighting... I-I wouldn't have believed them.''

''Odessa... come on, now. Everything I've done was just the right thing to do,'' he states. ''Any person with a good heart would have acted in the same way.''

''And yet, you were the only one – you and your family...''

It's quiet for a few seconds, and honestly, I don't even know if he's hugged me back yet, but now he does. He pulls me closer to him, gently, and allows me to rest my head on his shoulder.

''You know I love you, right?''

''I love you, too, Odessa.''

It seems as though an eternity has gone by, but I know that it's only been a few minutes. When you're with the people that you actually care about, time doesn't stop – it's endless. Unfortunately, in a bit, a Peacekeeper will probably come barging in and yelling at him to leave.

''Oh, and also, as you can tell, I wasn't able to get Augustus and Calliope to come visit you – believe me, I tried, but I couldn't find them anywhere in the crowd, and your parents were gone, so I don't know if they took them or not—''

''They probably did.''

''—but, I managed to get a hold of them. I saw both of them working and convinced them to speak to me during their breaks. Turns out, Calliope is even more of a bubbly girl than you thought she was. The girl enjoys life and loves being around her family and people in general. She remembers you, and she frequently asks about how you're doing and where you've gone, but, you know. And Augustus, he's still sick – but the good news is that his condition has been steady, and there's been a slight decrease in how sick he is. In truth, he's not getting better, but he's not getting worse, either.''

''You don't know how happy that makes me to hear that.'' Sniffing slightly – no, I'm not getting emotional – I add, ''I promise that when I get back, I'm paying you and your family for everything. There's no amount of money or success that can amount to what you guys have sacrificed for me. And for that, I'm forever in your debt.''

''Don't worry about it. Even after you win, you're welcome to stay with us for free, without any worry. We'll take care of your troubles. Most importantly, your parents and siblings are what your main focuses should be.''

''They are, but so are you.''

Branson is about to open his mouth and reply to me, but then, of course, the Peacekeeper from before interrupts the conversation and politely – surprisingly – asks Branson to remove himself from the premises.

We let go of one another – I let go of the only person that I'd ever let get close to me and embrace – and he walks out of the door. ''I'll see you when you get back. I believe in you. _We_ believe in you.''

''Yes, you will,'' I promise. ''Count your days, 'cuz I'll be back sooner than you think.''

The last thing I see before the door closes is the smile that he gives me, the one that looks so sweet with just the right touch of love that makes me feel an unexpected warmth rush through me.

* * *

 **A/N: Ayee! So here's the first Reaping chapter. Honestly, when writing Reaping chapters, I'm never too confident about how I officially begin these stories and kind of think I do bad with the tributes, but I hope I didn't butcher them or anything. Be honest with me and let me know how you feel. If I screwed up your tribute, let me know. Anyway, as you can tell, Lachlan is the good kid in his friend group, Darren's the tough guy, Aurora's got something she wants to accomplish, Chayona has family issues, and Odessa is very thankful. Usually I don't recap tributes like this, but I felt it might have been needed just to start off. Never again will you see me doing this, most likely, 'cuz this is probably one out of like, four times that I've ever done this. Also, I guess people don't like caps when emphasizing shouting or yelling, so I'll cut that off. I love getting constructive criticism like that, so if you guys think there's anything that I need to work on or improve, please just let me know. I wanna make this story as enjoyable as possible for you guys, and I know that my writing's not perfect, and it definitely won't ever be, so all the help that I can get would be hella helpful and appreciated. Also, thanks for the blog reviews, I loved reading through your opinions on these tributes. Some opinions were eyebrow raising, others got a few chuckles - overall, it was great. Anyway, few questions, if you don't mind?**

* * *

 **Favorite tribute this chapter, and why?**

 **Least favorite, and why?**

 **Any early predictions for these five?**

 **You just watch a gruesome Capitol flick, and your Escort is extremely happy to have seen it. After he picks up a slip, he reads out your name, and there's a sadistic look on his face. What's going on through your head and what're you doing?**

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, I don't really have much else to say. Let me know your opinions, and if you want, it can be in a form of a chart? ;) (Tbh, I really like charts, so keep that in mind). Oh, and also, many of these tributes have multiple paragraph portions of their personality, so not every aspect of them are shown. I used to write like 9000 word chapters where I'd go full detail with every single part of them, but I've decided to wait until further chapters to reveal some more to them because doing that is exhausting and drives you to hell until you can't take it anymore. Just saying, so don't freak out if all five detailed paragraphs of your tribute isn't shown when they're introduced.** ** **Anyway, have a wonderful morning/day/night, whatever time it is for you guys. I'll try to get the next chapter up as quick as I can, but no promises.** Gotta study for upcoming early exams so I don't have to wait until June to get them out of the way, so you know I'm tryna get school over with as soon as possible so that I can be absent for the entire last week, which would allow for more chapter-writing time and just recreational stuff. Alright, I'm done. See y'all in a few! ^-^**


	4. Unprepared

**Reaping Part II:**

* * *

 _You can't go into the cage and not love it, and you can't go in there unprepared.  
You have to prepare._

* * *

 **Imogen Pryor, District Five**

* * *

Pulling up my duvet and rolling towards the darker side of the room, I lightly wake up from a short hours' worth of sleep. The blinds in my room shut out most of the evening sun, but still on the opposite wall, there are rectangles of light projecting from the gaps. I watch as they turn from natural white to an artificial yellow glow.

Tossing from one side to another, I close my eyes once again – trying to make up for that lost sleep – and consciously breathe rhythmically.

''Wait a minute,'' I say, my eyes widening in surprise. ''What time is it?''

Jumping out of my bed, I quickly throw off my pajamas and begin looking for the outfit that I laid out for the Reaping. Searching in and out, I open up every drawer in my cabinets, throwing other pieces of clothing out of the way. Turning around, I jump into my closet and push through every single thing inside, unable to make out the specific top and faded jeans that I'm looking for.

Then, it dawns in on me. _Check under the bed._ ''There they are.'' I lazily say, crawling on my bedroom floor and reaching for the pair of clothes. They're wrinkled and look as if they haven't been washed in weeks – granted, they probably haven't...

I throw on my clothes and tie on a pair of low-top, dirty sneakers. After readying myself, I tiptoe through the mess that is my room. Stepping over pillows and kicking at dirty underwear, I make my way out into the hallway and turn to the bathroom, where I wash my face and brush my teeth as quickly as I possibly can.

Suddenly, a sweet, savory aroma wafts through the cool air. My stomach clenches with hunger at the thought of delicious honey rolls. I can imagine the warm, fluffy bun dripping with amber-colored liquid. Even the filter coffee that smoothly glides its scent through the various blends of food is good enough for me. This is the kind of place I can sit in for hours; the air is so perfumed without chemicals.

Turning my attention to the kitchen, I speed walk over there and find my dad playing around with the food, adding a little bit of this and a little bit of that on it. I throw an arm around his shoulder and kiss him on the cheek, saying, ''Good morning.''

''How are you, sweetheart?''

''Eh,'' I groan. ''Tired as ever, as if that answer isn't new, am I right?''

He laughs at my words and shakes his head. ''Well, if you didn't stay up all night every night, then maybe you wouldn't be so tired.''

''And if you paid attention to the honey rolls, then maybe they wouldn't be overcooking.''

His laugh drops as he turns around and catches sight of the fumes coming from the electric mixer. Startled, my dad jumps, and he flings one of the rolls up into the air on accident. It's as if everything moves in slow motion, and when the roll falls back down, it lands directly on his forearm and he shrieks like a schoolgirl.

Running around the kitchen area, he does his best to remove the burning pain from his arm, and the look on his face puts me in a fit of tears – the way he's blowing on his skin and foolishly jogging at the same time is hilarious.

After finally finishing up his act, I say, ''You're such a goof. I could never get enough of you, you know that?''

''Ah, leave me alone.'' Giving me a smile, he adds, ''You're lucky that I love you. Or else I'd have thrown it on you as soon as I had removed it from my own skin. Anyway, why exactly did you take so long getting up?''

''You know that lamp that I've been working on for like, ever now?'' He nods his head. ''I started working on the electromagnetic quanta, thinking about all types of x-rays and gamma lights, and I came to a conclusion that I could possibly create my own lights. The little lava lamps that I have on my counters are cool and all, but I wanna expand on that and have, like, blasting lights that splash color all over my room. So, what I decided to do was look at the wave-particle duality and realize that part of the photons shouldn't be revolved around light as a wave, or even light as a particle – instead, the whole area is profound and could lead to months of probing discussion and thinking, which woul—''

''Okay, Imogen, I understand,'' Dad cuts through my flow. ''I didn't really want to hear all that, but—''

''You asked,'' I shrug, raising an eyebrow at him, ''so I was more than happy to lend you an ear.''

''You definitely got me there,'' he admits. ''Besides, if I let you keep rambling on like that, you'd be late to the Reaping. Hurry up and get something to eat.''

''All right, but after the Reaping, then can I finish telling you about my plans, since you already know why I was up late? District Three isn't the only place full of nerds that can solve intense equations and create their own inventions, y'know? You'd be impressed with what I've done.''

''Damn right it's not, and of course. I bet I'll love it.''

''Good, but, uh, where's Mom?''

''She's in her office, I think – as usual.''

''Cool. I'm gonna go say bye to her and then head out, okay? I'll see you after the Reaping, Pops!''

Even as I'm walking, I can feel my eyes trying to close – but they won't, and they can't. My heart won't stop beating so fast, and the dark space in my mind is endless in this sleepless prison of mine. I don't wanna drift off into a dream because I love the fast pace of my life, but dreaming would be a nice escape from the worst event that occurs every year.

When I enter my mother's office, though, what I find doesn't surprise me. There's a half-full shot glass on her desk, and an open whine bottle that looks like it's about to tip over with the position it's placed in. My mom... well, she's completely knocked out and in a state of deep sleep. There are all sorts of work project paper prints scattered everywhere, and I guess it just got to her – the stress, that is, but she's always been like this: distant, reserved, alone...

I've never understood my mom, and that sucks, but I'm happy with our current situation. She's never been – or had – a problem, and I hope that she'll be just fine for... well, forever.

''See you, Mom,'' I whisper, only after picking up her papers and stacking them up on one pile and adjusting her bad posture – with the way she's sleeping, she'll wake up with a cracked neck.

''I'll see you when I get back.''

* * *

 **Sota Shirai, District Four**

* * *

The anticipation of running up to the stage and volunteering is killing me on the inside. It tingles through me like electrical sparks on the way to the ground, gathering in my toes and shocking me up to my skull.

Today, I go back to my roots – back to where my life took an uphill turn, but then tragically descended and crashed. The smile that cracks on my face hasn't been this wide since my stardom. I just have a good feeling, that when I get back to the Capitol, the reactions that I'll receive will be spectacular!

Nothing that feels this right could possibly go wrong. It just can't, especially not with someone like me.

''Why are you smiling so much?'' some kid next to me asks. Looking to the left, I puff out my chest and stick out my tongue.

''Because I'm going back to where I belong, duh.''

''The Capitol?''

''Yes, the Capitol,'' I reply. ''I'm a star. When I make my grand return, Panem will be in shock. Just wait and you'll see.''

''Yeah, right!'' he mocks me. ''Just because you're volunteering today doesn't mean that you're a star. If that were the case, then every past volunteer would be spoken about over and over again.''

''That's not what I'm saying,'' I roll my eyes. ''You wouldn't understand. Or maybe I wouldn't understand you, since you're nothing but dirt poor, while I was momentarily rich with fame, love, and happiness – everything that your unintelligible mind could only desire.''

''Uh huh, and the sky is green.''

I open my mouth to say something slick, but then I pause. ''You act like I didn't know that. You thought you were smart by trying to play tricks on me, didn't you?''

''I was being sarcastic. It's blue, you idiot,'' he scoffs. ''My God, you're honestly so stupid. Someone like you wouldn't last three days in the Hunger Games. You're a pathetic excuse for a Career.''

''You're gonna eat your words when you see me come out victorious in a few weeks,'' I declare. Getting in the kid's face, I grit, saying, ''I don't need you believing in me, because I _know_ that I'm coming out alive. I'll reach heights that you can only dream of. When I'm getting interviews and bathing in cash, I'll come visit just to tell you, 'I told you so', and then laugh in your face!''

''Confidence is key, unless you're an asshole,'' he retorts.

''I may be an asshole, but you were one first. At least I'm not one hundred percent a total dick.''

''I volunteer!'' I hear a female scream at the top of her lungs, and my head snatches back to the front of the Square, where a girl on the darker side of skin color mounts the stage with quick agility.

''What's your name, honey?''

''Odessa Adria,'' she answers. Odessa, huh? I haven't seen her around these parts that often, but maybe she's one of those broke girls who don't stand out much, unlike people of my magnitude.

''Is there anything you'd like to say before leaving?''

''This one's for the people who believed in me, and for you assholes who tried to stop me.'' She says this so frankly, not backing down one bit.

She's ballsy, and I like that. I stare directly at the Escort as he paces over to the males' bowl. Digging his hands deep in there, he picks out a folded envelope, removes the slip from the inside, and then reads out the name, ''Jenston Alure.''

''I volunteer!'' I scream those words out, as well. He scopes out the crowd, looking for me, but he can't seem to catch sight of my moving frame. I basically hop from one foot to the other as I make my way up to the stage, not ashamed one bit when I receive thousands of stares.

I wanna run, I wanna shout, to tell everyone what's about to happen... but I have to wait. I can't sleep, can't eat, can't laugh. Not until everything is said and over with. My mind is like a butterfly, whatever distraction I choose for myself, my mind keeps fluttering back to the goals that I'm going to accomplish. Then, I get that tingly feeling all over again.

I'm deliriously happy – giddy, even.

When I ascend onto the stage, it takes the Escort a few seconds to look me in my eyes and realize who I am – it takes a few seconds for the information to sink into his head, even though it's right before his eyes, larger than life. Then, I see his lips stretch wider into a gaping grin, and his eyebrows arch for the sky.

 _I_ made it; _I'm_ here.

''Fizzy?'' he says into the microphone, his voice cracking. ''It really is you, isn't it, Fi—'' he stops himself mid-sentence, retracing his steps and being smart about his choice of words. ''I'm sorry, but what's your name, young man?''

Grabbing the microphone from his hands, I confidently announce, ''I'm Sota Shirai, but you can call me Fizzy Pop. Whatever hope that any competition out there believes they have, they can immediately scratch that off of their plates because I'm emerging victorious, and there's nothing anybody can do to stop that!''

Handing the mic back to the Escort, he fumbles with it in his hands and cries into the input device. ''I-I don't doubt that. Your success almost seems inevitable, but, uh—'' once again, he stops himself from saying something he shouldn't bring up. ''District Four, here are your tributes: Odessa Adria and F— Sota Shirai!''

He turns to the both of us as the audience begins clapping, and gestures for us to shake hands. Looking at her with a condescending smile, I place my hand out for her to grab – and she does, but her firm grip is vice-like, and she cracks a few of my bones.

''Just because you squeezed my hand roughly doesn't mean jack,'' I whisper, staring her straight in the eyes. ''I'm better than you, okay? I am. Don't look at me like you're confused, like you think you stand a chance. I could beat you in my sleep, in fact. And how do I know that, you might be wondering? I know from comparing your clothes to mine, your shoes, your hair – everything.'' When I see her lips part, like she's prepared to tell me off, I quickly interject with, ''Sorry if it hurts, but it's true. Go crawl to your waiting room and cry, because you won't ever see your loved ones again.''

 _But I will_ , I realize, managing to block whatever she's saying out of my head. _Ursula's in the Capitol, and she's a stylist – a Head Stylist, at that. And for District Four, too. Well, she was. For all I know, she might have moved on to something else. I just pray she still has that profession. When I see her, oh, man, it's gonna be a special reunion._

Amazement doesn't even quite cover what I'm feeling. It's like someone just pulled out my sparks of wonder and poured kerosene all over them. The smile I show on the outside can't adequately reflect what I feel inside; it's like every neuron of my brain is trying to fire in every direction at once – this is definitely the best kind of feeling imaginable.

I'm going home, back to where I belong, and everyone will hear about it. I can already see the headline: _Fizzy Pop enters the Hunger Games to reclaim his former glory!_

* * *

 **Gideon Alvaro, District Three**

* * *

''Hurry and get going, Gideon. It's better that you get the Reaping over with and we go back to our normal routine,'' Eren suggests.

''Yeah, you're right, but... I _don't_ want to continue,'' I admit, like she doesn't already know. Eren softly places her hand on my shoulder, a fake smile plastered on her face. The corners of her mouth are threatening to drop, and the tugging is extremely obvious.

''But you _have_ to, and I have to, as well,'' she sighs. The dull look on her eyes shows me that she's just as fed up as I am. ''Look, I managed to snatch a few necklaces and watches from some guy's briefcase. I don't know who he was, but I'm guessing he's one of the high counsel members. After the Reaping, I'll tempt a few store owners with them so that we can get something we need.''

''Like?''

''Like food,'' she replies. ''We both know that damn community home isn't doing enough for either of us. Just look at you, Gid. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you were malnourished – but you're not, and I'm thankful for your well-being.''

''...The thing is, though, I think I have to meet up with someone.'' Lowering my head to my chest, I don't dare to meet my sister's gaze. _I hate, hate, hate it!_ ''D-Do you want me to meet up with you af—''

''I'll wait outside,'' she states. ''But, just don't get distracted, okay? You're doing what you need to. We're both in an unfortunate position, but we can manage. We have each other, and that's enough to survive.''

Growing closer to me, Eren alights her lips on my cheek like a dew-freckled petal caught in a breeze, her kiss so soft and with the smallest hint of coolness.

''I'll meet you in the middle of the Square after the Reaping, but while waiting, I'll go see if I can snuggle anything good from as many people as I can.''

''Just be safe!''

''Don't worry about me,'' she smiles faintly. ''By the time anyone notices that their items are gone, I'll be far, _far_ away.''

''You promise?''

''Of course. It'll be the same as always – I grab, leave, then repeat. I'll be just fine – worry about yourself other than me for once. Now get going, kiddo.''

With that, I let go of Eren's hand and march over to one of the rows where kids are getting their fingers pricked. The line dwindles quickly, and when I make it up to the front, my heart sinks.

In her white hazmat suit, I accidentally make eye-contact with Diandra – one of the few female Peacekeepers in Three. She removes her helmet as soon as she sees me and lets her brunette hair flow, smiling devilishly at me. ''Don't be shy, come on down.''

Slowly taking a step forward, I stick out my finger and allow her to grab a hold on my wrist. She grips it like she's trying to hold me still, and a heavy silence settles over us, growing thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. I glance around unceremoniously, trying to see if anyone notices how clingy she is to me.

But no-one does, and I shift uncomfortably in my stand. Slowly, she trickles her fingers up my forearm and says, ''You know, when I was deployed here, I thought it was going to be boring as hell. Stuck in a District like Three, with nobody except for a whole bunch of geeks roaming the streets, it really didn't sound like fun. And the fact that I can't have any kids until after my twenty years of service to the Capitol is done, well, that made it even worse. But then I met you, at the young age you were of sixteen. You surprised me, Gideon, with your Two-ish looks and gorgeous body. You were so young back then, but now you're all grown-up, and you're even better than before.''

She tries to reach up and push her fingers through the locks in my hair, but I quickly yank my hand away from her and run off into the eighteen-year-old section. Before I can get too far, though, I hear her shout, ''See you after the Reaping – if no-one else has an appointment with you yet!''

As soon as I arrive to the back of my section, the Escort goes to pick out a female. _I can't stand my life._ Thoughts begin flowing, engulfing me in a depressing mindset. _I'm tossing myself around like some toy for everyone to play with, but what do I get out of it, just another day in life?_ ''Is it even worth it?!'' I mumble.

 _Diandra's gonna chew me up like a piece of steak, like she always does. You'd think that a woman of her caliber, three years more mature than me, would be morally encompassed and not do the things she does – just like all the others, who force it even after over three times of being with them. It should just be a one and done deal type of thing, not over and over and over and over and over again._

…I sometimes wish that she would go back to District Two, but it's not just her fault – I play fifty percent in the role, allowing myself to do it, because I _need_ the support and money that she provides; that _all_ of them provide.

When I raise my head again, there's a girl stuttering on the stage. A few other females in the background are screaming and crying, yelling out the name, _''Chayona!''_

''All right, then,'' the Escort rolls her eyes, moving away from the sobbing mess that is Chayona. She swipes up one of the top envelopes in the males' bowl, and then reads out, ''Gideon Alvaro!''

As quick as can be, everyone's eyes find their way to me. Every single male in front, to the sides, and back are staring straight at me, surprised. Even a shriek from the females' section goes off. People shuffle their feet against the dirty ground while judging whispers swirl in the air around the Square. With all of this attention on me, I feel painfully out of place – like a pepperoni mistakenly making its way onto a vegetarian pizza.

My face contorts into a hen-pecked look, and my shoulders hunch together like I'm trying to disappear inside myself. Even from the outside, I can feel my dark eyes trying to roll upwards so that I can't make out anything in front of me.

Deciding to not waste time, I totter my way out into the aisle and keep my head up, trying to look as determined as I possibly can. _I can do it, for Eren and for myself. I can't just leave her out in the streets alone while I rot in an arena and die._

''Gideon?'' I hear, and as I turn, I notice a familiar face – a girl in the eighteen-year-old section that I'm accustomed to seeing on occasional 'meetings'. '' _Fuck._ ''

Stepping onto the stage, I raise my shoulders and fix my posture, scanning the sea of people to find my sister. There's a faint screaming in the background, and I figure that's her.

''Is there anything you want to say, Gideon?'' the Escort chuckles, looking me up and down. ''What a piece of cake!'' Nearly speaking into the microphone, she barely manages to avoid being caught. Although, I heard her.

''I... I just have to make it back to my sister,'' I decide. ''She needs me, and I need her – we thrive off each other more than ever, and it's going to be difficult without her around, but I'm going to make it back. Eren, I promise – I'll do _everything_ I can in order to make sure that I return, and nobody's stepping in my way.''

And I mean _nobody._

* * *

 **Mackenzie Ellesemere, District Ten**

* * *

''Mommy!'' I cry, being wrapped into the tight hold of my mother. She gives into the enormity of her grief, sobbing into my shoulder and allowing the tears to drip over my clavicle. Her breathing – just like mine – is ragged, gasping, and the strength of her legs are weak.

''I'm sorry that they picked you, p-pumpkin,'' she snivels. Sinking to her knees, she becomes height level with me and lets the carpet dig into her knees. ''I tried _so_ hard to convince them that you're too young! They wouldn't listen to me, and no-one, no matter how hard I begged, wanted to take your place. They threatened me with death if I didn't stop!''

''I-It's okay, Mom,'' I stroke her hair, shivering as I place my left hand around her back. ''I-It's not all that b-bad... B-But... d-do you think that t-they chose me b-because I s-stole things?''

''No, of course not!'' she looks up at me, the tears blinding her vision and turning her eyes into a deep shade of red. ''I-It's absolutely normal for children your age t-to be fascinated in t-taking things that a-aren't theirs and d-doing the things you do. T-They c-could never rig it l-like that!''

''M-Mom, I-I want to t-thank you f-f-for everything that y-you've done for m-me,'' I try to speak. ''Y-You tried to h-help me get away from the n-negativity, a-and you've always stood b-by my s-side. I can't thank y-you enough.''

''Baby,'' she raises her hands up to my face, her nails brandishing against my cheeks. ''Y-You're not going to die, I p-promise. T-There have been twelve-year-old V-Victors before – n-not many, but it's happened. You can be added t-to the list! Y-You're c-curious and smart, so y-you'll be able to f-figure something out.''

''W-Will I, really?''

''Yes!'' she coddles me, lifting my tiny body up into her arms and caressing me like a baby. ''I-I'll be doing everything that I can to g-get the District to pitch in and s-send you as many sponsor gifts as possible!''

''W-What about the other t-tribute?''

''She's not as _important_ as you, honey,'' Mom says, quite loudly. ''Y-You have so much to live for! T-This is w-why I've t-tried s-so hard to help you e-escape the real world; the one t-that doesn't care about you like I do.''

Wiping my tears away, I smile at my mother and reassure her by saying, ''I'm g-going to do e-everything that I can to w-win for you. I-It's gonna be hard, but your love is enough to drive me to victory.''

Suddenly, a Peacekeeper throws the door open and tells my mom to leave. ''Give us a few more s-seconds!'' she pleads, but he threatens her by pulling out a gun. She cries until no more tears come out, but still, the emptiness and sorrow remains. Steadily putting me down, she kisses my forehead and waves me goodbye, walking off with the Peacekeeper.

When the door closes, I hear her muffled screams as she shouts, ''You terrible, _terrible_ people, putting a twelve-year-old boy in the Games! Have you no sympathy? What is wrong with you stupid Capitol supports?! You're delusional and crazy if you think that putting a child, who hasn't even hit puberty yet, in a death match is right! You disgusting sons of bitches!''

Only a few seconds pass by before Levon – my slave – comes to visit me. ''Hey,'' he waves rapidly, standing at the entrance of the room awkwardly.

Fires of hatred and fury start smoldering in my small, narrowed eyes as I weigh the pros and cons of the various and creative means available to me for exacting revenge – but screw the deep thinking!

My breath turns from quiet and regular to a panting gasp. Sucking the air like it has suddenly become thick and is too difficulty to draw in, I become deaf to the soothing words of Levon, rapidly backtracking on his oddly uncomfortable stance. But as he begins to give me a weird look and apologize, I know that it's irreversible.

The first thing I grab is a purple vase that I snatch off of a platinum desk and chuck it at him. It cracks against the wall with a sudden burst as he ducks, and I explode. Charging straight at him, the tears dripping from my eyes, I pummel him to the ground, hitting his head with a fury of punches, kneeing his stomach, and biting at the arms that he raises to defend himself.

They say that we can't feel the pain of others, but Levon's scream is the same agony that I feel right now, seeping into my skin. I take it in, letting myself feel it, and stay there to reciprocate the same action.

High-pitched and raw, my scream is the kind of sound that bypasses your logical thinking and goes straight to your emotional response – it's the sound of a child in pain. ''You let me go up there and didn't volunteer for me! You _want_ me to die, don't you!?''

If hatred was visible, the air would be scarlet right now. There are no-holds-barred when I attack. I pull out Levon's hair in handfuls, headbutting him and slamming his head into the carpet multiple times. There's an immediate bruise that forms on the bottom of his eyelids, causing them to swell, and blood drips from one of his nostrils and down to his chin.

''Give me your shirt!'' I bite, pulling the top off of Levon's head. He lies there, allowing me to tug at his clothes. ''And your stupid jewelry!''

Grabbing his neck, I rip off a pearl necklace and watch as the beads free fall and bounce off of the floor. ''M-My dad gave t-that to me,'' he croaks.

''Shut up, bitch!'' I spit, smacking him across the face. ''You're a stupid piece of shit for not helping me out!''

The door swings open, and I jump off of Levon. As it rapidly moves, the corner of it smacks him on top of his head, and he lies there, his thinking paralyzed. He shuts down in a fetal position, attempting to protect his vital organs and ride out the storm.

The Peacekeeper stares at me, and then averts his eyes to Levon. ''What?'' I ask, sniffing my snot back up. ''Just get him out of here!''

Ask and you shall receive, I guess. The door closes with Levon being carried out a bloody, eleven-year-old pulp, nearly unconscious, the Peacekeeper unquestioning.

 _It's not my fault._ When you betray a friend, you deserve what comes to you.

* * *

 **Krissy McCoy, District Thirteen**

* * *

It's impossible to avoid my family now.

There's a tenseness in my muscles that makes me feel more like a mannequin on this soft chair more than a woman of flesh and bone. I wanna melt onto the soft foam, wrapped in eiderdown, and drift away – but all I can do is sit here and control my feelings, because remaining collected will help me out in the long-run.

The moment of truth arrives when my parents and younger sister are accompanied into my waiting room. I feel it as soon as my father opens up that big mouth of his.

''Krissy, you're going to win. Do you understand me?'' I don't even look at him, but instead just stare at my bitten fingernails. ''No daughter of mine is going to fall at the hands of some privileged idiots. You can win, and you _will_ win. Won't you, Krissy?''

Nothing but silence floods the air.

''Answer me when I'm speaking to you, Krissy!''

''Yes, Father, I'll win,'' I assure.

He nods his head appreciatively, like I've given him my word – but I have. I've always given him my word. _The rage that I feel on the inside won't ever subside because I'll never stop handing him what he wants. Not until I die._

''Krissy, I love you, and I hope you know that,'' Mom chatters, already starting. ''Let's just admit that the past was rough. But that doesn't matter now, because we've dealt with it. It's over with, and I can't hate you for what happened. I bet you won't believe me when I tell you this, but, I was so relieved when you came back to us. You're my daughter, and seeing you like this right now... it pains me.''

 _Get this over and done with, please_ , I beg inside my mind. _I just want them to leave so that I don't have to feel so embarrassed anymore. Facing them is bad enough as it is, but having to hear them relay our past events is torture!_

''But just like your father said, you will make it back.'' She says that like it's a fact, when in all reality, my chances of surviving in the Games aren't very high. ''You have a huge advantage over the other tributes! Any injuries that they inflict or receive, you can heal them – you know _how_ to heal them. Everyone's going to want to ally with you because of your skills! We know how it is in the arena – we've seen the Games before. Get yourself in with the Careers, learn a thing or two from them, but be safe and get away when the time is right. You have just a great of a shot at winning as much as they do. My expectations for you are set at the ceiling.''

 _Yeah, right!_ I dare to say. _What kind of skills? Sewing up cuts and providing minimal surgery to those who need it, without getting squeamish?_

''Thank you,'' I force those words out. ''I've screwed up before, but I'll make it up to you guys by w-winning, even if I have to risk my life by trying to get in with people like the Careers.''

''Not just before, but a _lot_ , Krissy.'' _Fuck off!_ ''I wish that you had turned out like Elsie. She's determined and has the nerves to do what we do, but you don't. If she was reaped for this stupid event, I bet she'd give the Capitol a run for their money.''

There he goes again, describing how much better _she_ is compared to me. All my life, I've been told that she was the more capable one – the future of family. And me? I'm the mousy shadow that hides in the corner, while everyone else gathers around to praise her, just like ants do to an unfinished sandwich.

Elsie turns to me and smiles, comprehensibly upset. ''Dad...'' she tries.

''No, Elsie, what I'm saying is true.'' There's a feeling that lingers over my body, showing that no matter how hard I try, I just can't do anything right. My work as a nurse is a mere shame compared to Elsie's future career as a surgeon. My thousands of morphling doses aren't yet adequate enough to get me through the demands of my parents. The raw feeling in my fingers is something to be ashamed of.

I feel... unaccomplished.

And my dad ranting on about how 'I need to change as soon as possible' and that 'I'm not good enough just yet, but will be soon', doesn't help at all.

''Okay!'' I scream, slamming my balled fists against my knees. ''I get it, all right? I get it!''

My yelling seems to encourage a Peacekeeper to enter the room and order my family to leave. There's no patience in the tone of his voice, which makes me feel relaxed – because he sounds serious, and they'll definitely retire from the room if they don't want to cause any trouble.

Mom pats me on my shoulder and rubs my back, telling me how much she loves me, before aiming for the door. Elsie sighs, staring at me with a hint of sadness and uncertainty. There's no reason for me to hate her, but she's always got something about her that's better than me, and I... I _can't_ stand it.

Unlike everyone else, Dad doesn't even spare me a look. It's as if he doesn't even care about how I'm feeling on the inside, but instead just carries out what he believes is right.

The door shuts closed with a thud, causing the picture frames that are hanging on the walls to shake vigorously.

My brain becomes a violent whirl of stupidity, trying to organize the chaos in my life. It seeks to discover a way to control the capriciousness of my family, to acquiesce and please them so that our encounters are softer, less draining. The task is pointless, though, because I'll be dead in a few days – savagely murdered by the hands of some other kid around my age, or ripped to shreds by mutts.

Even though my conscious brain knows all this, my subconscious remains stubborn in its attempts to protect me, to ensure of my survival.

The stress spreads through my mind like ink on paper. I take in a deep, ragged breath before placing my hands, enclosed together, on my chin.

 _I wish they hadn't accepted me back into the household. Instead, they should have let me rot on the dirty streets like a dog. I should've died from my wounds a long time ago, but here I am – alive, ashamed, despondent._

Slumping down in the cushion seats, I relax my neck and let my head rest on the comforting pillow.

''Why can't I get nice things in my life?''

* * *

 **Aether Cynephris**

* * *

It's always the same, a crushing pain just on one side of my head that comes and goes in a pattern. It makes me want to pace about; I can't sit, I can't lie down or relax. One eye waters on the painful side and my nose runs. _I hate it, I despise it, I execrate it!_

 _Stop it!_ I tell myself. _Ignore your feelings and get through the pain. Suck it up and stop being weak._

Opening up the door, one of the grand Peacekeepers ushers Escalus – my trainer, my lover, my buddy – into the room. When the door closes, he looks at me in such a seductive way that I can't help but bite my bottom lip.

''Come out alive, Aether,'' he simply says, slowly approaching me. When he's only a few inches from my body, he raises his hand in a second. It smacks across my face, snapping my head back with the force of his blow and causing me to reel sickeningly back into a wall. Black dots cover the center of my vision, and I'm standing in the middle of a room with a man – who has actions similar to a werewolf – holding my arms tightly behind my back, the pain of his hold causing me to let out a startled little gasp of pain. ''You owe me, so don't disappoint. It'd be a real shame if I didn't have anyone else to toy with like I do you.''

''I would rather you take a knife to my skin and speak those cold words at the same time,'' I grunt. ''Strike me, then. Beat me. Do whatever you want!''

''I've poured warmth into you for so long and you love it, I know you do,'' he snickers. ''Every time a new wound, a new scar, is added to the collection, you know that it can never stop you from loving me. But I need you to try _real_ hard to return. I've come too far with you, and I _don't_ want to go back. You please and satisfy me – you fulfill my urges. Don't let it all go to waste. Now thank me.''

I steady my breathing, _allowing_ Escalus to pinch me and bite my shoulder.

''T-Thank you,'' I try.

''For what?''

''For everything!''

His hands suddenly twitch, and I can feel his pulse on my body. Like always, he's prone to anger easily, and he'll take his frustration out on me. ''Be more specific..!''

But then, he's ordered to get out of the room when a Peacekeeper says that it's time to go. Letting go of me like nothing ever happened, he walks away calmly, leaving me panting in pain and agony. _But I love it._

I just want a life where I can forever be alone from all the suffering that the world has to offer, away from the violent murders that occur everyday; away from the screaming arguments that I witness out on the streets; away from the social class system that enlists you in specific programs.

But what I want most of all is a perfect utopian society where no-one is ever hurt again. Nobody will go hungry, no child will go parent-less, and no more people will be abandoned and destroyed by those who they believe love them.

Suddenly, the door is opened once again – but this time, Mariam walks in.

'' _Look what I got today!_ '' she sings, running towards me with an appearance of excitement written all over her. ''There's a comb, a wallet, and I even got this half-eaten omelet.''

I give her a look. ''What?'' she asks. ''Don't judge. The value of it doesn't matter as long as I'm fed, right? You understand, don't you, since you've been in the same mess as me?''

''I get you,'' I smile at her. ''Do what you need to in order to survive, Mariam. I just wish that you could be taken in somehow, so that it'd be easier to survive, instead of...''

''Living out on the streets? Yeah, I wish so, too, but that's never gonna happen,'' she decides. ''Life isn't that easy or perfect, but promise me that when you win, you'll help me out?''

''Of course!'' I look her in the eye. ''You deserve so much better than this... A little girl like you shouldn't have to go through the struggles that life's throwing your way. Can I tell you a little secret before I go off, though?''

''For sure! What is it?''

''You've always been my favorite person in the whole wide world,'' I nod, ''and I mean that. You're not stuck up like all of the Academy kids, and you have morals – the kind that I can respect. Stay alive for as long as possible.''

''I will,'' she manages. ''Also, do you have a token?''

''No, why?''

''Take this,'' she offers, handing me her comb. Gladly, I take it and thank her – which she repays the gesture by hugging me. But then she has to leave, because apparently time's up, although it seems like she's been in here for a shorter amount of time than Escalus.

When she exits, I'm all to myself again – where I want to and dream to be.

I made Mariam a promise, but what if I can't keep it? What if I'm not good enough to succeed in the Games and die early? What if the other Careers, or another tribute, manages to take me down when I'm vulnerable, and she has to live in misery for the rest of her life?

 _Why did you do it? Why'd you make a promise that you know will only be broken in the end?_

''Why can't I _focus_!?'' I question myself, rapidly slamming my head against the wall repeatedly. ''Why is it so hard? What is it that I'm even _feeling?_ ''

I want such a good life for myself and those around me, but it seems so fruitless – so _unachievable_. And it hurts...

'It's heavy' is the only way I can describe it. I have to carry it around even though I don't want to. It's always over me whenever I have to deal with my indulgent dreams, casting in its shadow on my life. Like a thin thread, it hangs, too fragile to hold something so heavy. It's strange, yet all too familiar.

I wanna smile. I wanna laugh at my thoughts and continue to believe in hope, but something in me grabs my heart tightly and crushes it to pieces. The brightness inside of me – that I long to discover – is pushed even deeper into the darkness that gulps me up. No, I'm wrong to say that it's dark. It's actually _empty_...

And nothing else.

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! So I temporarily forgot that Friday was off, and because of that I was able to get a head start on this chapter. Studying, playing sports, finding time to manage with friends and writing hasn't been as hard as I assumed. I've made time for everything that I'm obligated to do, so it's a major stress reliever. Anyway, sorry that this chapter came out so long. The only reason why it turned out like this is because I decided to go with six POVs instead of five. Six because sooner or later, I'd have to write six in order to get everyone's first point of view distributed appropriately. And so I decided that this chapter was the best for that. Honestly, it was hard to choose who I wanted to write. I thought about giving Pavel a POV here, Aspen, too, and Millet, as well. Lucretia, even. Can't forget about Eloise. Basically, a lot of tributes had amazing family relationships, or just great reactions to being reaped, so much that I wanted to write them all, but I like the group I ended up with here and have decided to switch a few things up.**

 **I hate to make people wait and keep them anxious to see their tributes, so if you wanna know when your special guy/girl will be shown, just shoot me a PM and I'll let you know. Some don't get one until the game festivities, because I figure that it suits them best. Also, speaking of game festivities, this is how the whole story structure is laid out: two reaping chapters, one train ride, one Capitol session where they prepare for the Chariot Rides, then the Chariot Rides, and lastly, the first day of training, which will cap off every tribute. After that, it's the standard routine until the Games begin - and by then, honestly, not everyone will have two POVs, so there'll be a twist. Can't wait to reach the Games, really. You know how every SYOT usually has that initial Victor that the author has planned out since day one or so? Yeah, well, for this story, I think it's honestly anyone's game. I've gotten questions asking if I had needed fodder Bloodbath tributes, and fr fr, anyone can die in the Bloodbath, so keep that in mind. I could knock off three Careers if I really wanted to, but we'll see what happens. Hopefully that lifts the spirits of anyone who's doubted their tribute going far. Anyway, questions?**

* * *

 **Favorite tribute, and why?**

 **Least favorite, and why?**

 **Opinions, if you'd like to share them?**

 **You go to get your finger pricked, and a Peacekeeper of the opposite gender is teasing you like you've never been teased before in your life. And honestly, you're mad uncomfortable with how they're caressing you. Do you say something? Do you expose them by calling something out loud? Do you simply stand there and kinda brush it off? Wyd?**

* * *

 **Alright, well that's pretty much it. Also, these tributes were honestly pretty hard to write for. Like I said in the chapter before this, everyone has such detailed personalities that it's hard to showcase all of it. I try to at least get in two paragraphs worth of personality in every POV, and I hope that it was enough. When writing tributes, I try to picture myself as them and write how I would feel or what I'd do in that position, and I aim for it to work out well. Been sticking with that momentum since day one, so I'm optimistic enough to hope that it doesn't let me down now. Tbh, though, I struggle with proofreading my chapters, so chill if mistakes pop out like hell. I'm lazy asf, and honestly, I don't wanna pay an online site to do it for me or have friends go through that - I think it's my burden, and I'm a bit stubborn at times when letting others do things for me, so yeah, just a little thing that I've noticed about my writing over the, like, two years of this hobby. I loved all of your reviews, btw, and they always put a smile on my face. Seriously, I can't thank y'all enough. I hope that Good Friday has been an amazing day and that Easter Sunday will be even better for you guys, if you celebrate them, and even if you don't; but either way, have a great time doing whatever it is that you're planning. Besides that, not really much else to say. See y'all next time! ^-^**


	5. Corporeal

**Train Rides:**

* * *

 _The moment you refuse the human rights of just a few,  
What happens when that few includes you?_

* * *

 **Eloise Allegro, District Eight**

* * *

''How are you two feeling right now?'' Jackson asks me and Darren.

''Absolutely shitty,'' Darren groans, his foul-mouthed words breezing through the air like a cold wind. Intrigued, I sit back on the u-shaped bean bag and hold a wooden plate full of food in front of me. Darren furrows his eyebrows, his presence displaying frustration and annoyance. ''What right do those shit stains have to draft teens, for the sole purpose of death, at any free will? It makes no sense to me.''

Smiling, I look down at the warm piece of bread that has a slab of melting yellow butter dripping down its edges and a thick, hearty slice of roasted pork on my plate. The tingling sensation in my stomach, known as hunger, kicks in, and without hesitation, I grab the pork and rip a chunk off with my teeth.

Darren stops speaking all of a sudden, and when I glance upwards, everyone is staring at me. ''What?'' I shrug. ''There's no need to be pretentious. I'm going into a _death_ match. Am I supposed to be impressing somebody?''

''Well, if you want to be supported in the Games, then _yes_ , you should be attempting to, at least,'' Marcel frowns. ''Don't be so impolite.''

''Chill out with that shit,'' Darren speaks up, crossing his arms together. ''She can be impolite if she wants – she doesn't even deserve to be here, so why not piss those fucking cunts off while she can?''

''You've got such a strong vocabulary, kid,'' Jackson laughs.

''Not the first time I've heard that statement,'' Darren rolls his eyes, looking at me with a straight face. ''But, really, come on, now. What's she ever done in her life that's so bad that she has to be put in this predicament? What have _any_ of us ever done to the Capitol? Something that happened almost two centuries ago shouldn't be held for this long of a grudge.''

''Well, yeah, but—''

''There are no buts,'' Darren decides. ''Seriously. I'm not trying to disrespect you guys or anything, but the picture is clear... and I feel bad for some people, man. Especially for Eloise. It's fucked up.''

Suddenly, a blush sears through my cheeks, and for a moment, I think that my face is on fire. Fidgeting with my hands, I attempt to hide my rosy features behind my slim fingers. Darren catches sight of me and starts chuckling a little, and even I start to let the little giggles escape my lips.

''Thanks for having my back, dude,'' I smile. ''I seriously agree with him, though. Honestly, having him around ameliorates this entire thing and makes it just a bit more bearable.''

''Well, if both of you feel the same way, then why not ally with each other?'' Jackson suggests. ''When I witnessed your reactions to being reaped, I wasn't too keen on the idea – but now that I've seen how you two will interact with one another, I think you could work fittingly together. Whatcha you think, Marcel?''

''I don't care, really. As long as your chances of surviving are increased, I'm not against it.''

''Our chances of surviving will be increased when you give us some good advise.''

''Hey—'' Marcel starts.

''Don't get mad at Darren,'' I interrupt. ''He's right. _Help_ us. Besides, worry more about the nut that's dripping down your lip and the piece of corn stuck in between your teeth rather than having a back-and-forth argument with a tribute.''

''You could have spoken to me privately about the corn...'' she sighs. ''And nut? What the hell is nut?''

''You know,'' I gesture, balling my right hand into a fist and pumping it forward and backward rapidly, letting my fingers release when my arm begins to ache, signifying the climax. I pretend as if something splatters on her when I moan, ''...Boom.''

Darren instantly begins to crack up, his laughter boisterous and hearty, while Jackson attempts to hold in his stifled breathes of tittering. Marcel quickly realizes what I was representing and removes the 'butter' from the corner of her mouth, looking at me with an upset expression.

''So,'' I say, turning to Darren when the noise in the room subsides, ''you down to be allies?''

The question takes him by surprise, apparently – I guess he wasn't expecting me to ask – as he looks at me seriously for a moment, putting on a stony countenance of hardness and nodding his head. He brings his hand outwards and I politely shake it, smiling proudly.

Unfortunately, Marcel still isn't quite convinced. ''You really think this could work? You two are as different as can be.''

''Not really,'' I reply. ''He could be a killer and I could be a victim who's never faced a hardship in my life. C'mon, now.''

''Still, it's not precise enough. Are you two sure?''

Out of nowhere – well, not really; I actually felt it coming up – I let out a loud belch that shocks the entire room, the deep-sounding burp erupting out of my throat and the putrid smell of beef passing by everyone, slickly.

''That horrendous smell came from your mouth?'' Marcel points a finger. ''That's so grotesque! You apparently have no manners whatsoever!''

Staring at her defiantly, I raise my shoulders and then let them slump. ''No-one said that you had to breathe through your nose. If you'd rather open your mouth and let the burp enter through there instead, I'd have no problem with that.''

Again, Darren smiles at me. _We could really work._

''And to answer your question, yes. I _do_ think that Darren and I could make an awesome alliance,'' I say, completely honest. ''With my charisma and his anger, don't you think we could take the arena by surprise? He's a built guy, strong and capable, and I'm ready to play the game with him. I'm confident that we'll get through this mess.''

 _Because we really have to._

* * *

 **Millet Arrowroot, District Nine  
**

* * *

There are times where emotions run so high in people that you can almost feel the tears leap from them and into your own eyes. It's like they're sparks ready to fly, and I'm the ground that they land on – Cherokee's human emotions run high on end.

''They don't love me...'' she whispers to herself, rocking back-and-forth in her seat. Her obsessive crying makes me uncomfortable, and I wouldn't doubt that it makes our mentors uncomfortable, as well. ''Maybe I really am cursed. _No!_ I can't be. So why do they treat me like this and call me the bad child? What's my problem?!''

Both Lilac and Demetri glance up, stare at Cherokee for a bit, and then let her continue rambling. Judging by the looks on their faces, I can tell that they're disoriented. Demetri's mouth purses, slightly open and loose. His eyes are fixed, as if he's looking at something a yard behind her head. ''What exactly are you talking about? I asked if you guys would like to construct a few strategies, and here we are.''

''I'm sorry,'' she sniffs, blowing her nose with one of the table napkins. ''A lot has been going on and I don't know how to deal with it.''

''Then don't.'' With an easy, hardened expression, I cock an eyebrow when she looks at me perplexed. ''Don't look at me like that. Your words and actions are divergent. I mean that they pull in opposite directions as if your brain's narrator and navigator have entirely different thoughts about what goes on in your life. You talk the talk of a girl who knows who she is, but when push comes to shove, you cower in whatever your parents say. Forget all that. It doesn't matter now – the only thing that does is your life.''

''But you don't even understand wha—''

''I know that I don't understand. You _have_ parents to tell you what's up, and I bet that they support you despite everything that they say.'' Her eyes widen with sympathy, and the glistening tears slip from her lacrimal glands. ''Just let it go, and try not to think about them so damn much. Are you confused? Or do you not see yourself for who you are and instead appear to be the girl that others imagine you to be?''

''I— I don't know. I think that I should be the girl that _I_ know I am.''

''All right, then,'' I decide. ''I'm glad that you said that, because you sounded like you were giving up with trying to figure out who you are. Be smart with how you present yourself. No-one in the Capitol is going to enjoy watching a pitiful girl who cries over herself all the time. From what I can point out, you believe that you're cursed or some shit like that?''

''Mm-hmm,'' she nods her head.

''Stop being so superstitious. Tributes like you don't make it far because you turn out weird and boring to watch. It's like staring at yourself in the mirror all day long – you get bored of it, unless you're _that_ cocky. You don't have to listen to me, but in this cutthroat society that we live in, you gotta know how to test the waters and adapt.''

''Honestly, I couldn't have said it any better myself,'' Demetri says, placing his hand on the glass table and leaning forward. ''He's got the whole plot of the Games on point.''

Lilac, even, adds in her two cents. ''A natural-born leader, I'd say.''

Cherokee lightens up her gaze and relaxes herself on the comfortable couch. ''I agree. Thank you, really. It's nice to have someone who's sensible and understands the dangers ahead. I appreciate you looking out for me.''

Placing my right fist on my cheek, I stare down at the plate of this thing they call mac and cheese that sits before me, a golden glow radiating off of it. ''It's whatever.''

Cheese oozes from inside and drips off the side. Steam rises in an aromatic haze, and with a desire to taste the extraordinary food, I shove a fork-full of it in my mouth, slightly yelping as it burns my tongue. It's hot, but it's also nice and gooey in the middle and crispy on top – a perfect combination of textures.

 _Ryess would really enjoy this._ Suddenly, the plate of food is off to the side, and my hands hang limply over my knees, my eyes red as I stare coldly at the carpet. _Every moment that we spent together feels like they're just painful memories now. All the unwanted attention, Mom and Dad's caring nature, us running around the fields together and laughing... All of it's gone now. But it makes sense._

The most beautiful memories are the worst, cutting my insides as if they're shards of glass. I feel the kind of sadness that seeps into your bones rather than explodes in a cascade of tears.

 _Take care of her, Root._

''Hello?'' Cherokee waves.

''Yes?''

''I've noticed that you never talk or contribute to anything unless you feel like something _needs_ to be said. You don't really show emotion or passion for anything, do you.''

Shrugging, I say, ''Maybe that's just my personality.''

''Empty on the inside and emotionless?''

Cherokee disengages herself from the topic of my personality when I raise my cheeks and shyly wonders, ''S-Since you were able to help me get over this whole thing for a bit, I was curious as to whether you'd like to be allies or not..?''

''Nah, I think I'll pass.'' She looks at me, surprised, as I expected. Turning up her nose, she looks away, seemingly embarrassed. ''Sorry, I just think that you'd be too much of a liability to keep around by my side. It's nothing against you – I just wanna do what's best for me.''

''Thank you for being honest, at least.'' With that, she exits the train cart and saunters over to the one where our rooms are located.

An awkward moment of silence passes by before Demetri opens up his mouth, saying, ''I call dibs on Millet.''

''Hold up, what?'' Lilac scoffs.

''You heard me, no take backs.''

Lilac turns to me while Demetri flashes a white, toothy grin. Rolling my eyes, I lean backwards and let myself rest, knowing that both mentors from my District are fighting over who gets to train me.

''It doesn't matter who mentors me,'' I cut through their argument. ''As long as my well-being and chances of victory are raised and secured – and we focus on bringing Nine another Victor – I'm satisfied.''

* * *

 **Condor Teal, District Seven**

* * *

Clasping her hands together, Chantell makes sure to emphasize how important sponsors are. ''You will rely on them. When you get into open view, make sure to make a good first impression. Smile, wave, blow kisses, do _something_ that will make you stand out in a positive way.''

''But what if the other tributes are doing the same thing and attract more attention than we do?'' Natalie asks, leaning forward.

''Then do something drastic. Actually, don't even think about it that way because someone out there will be looking at you,'' Relmo assures.

''How do you know that?'' Natalie deadpans.

''Just look at you two!'' Chantell exclaims. ''I've mentored many attractive tributes, but you two take the cake. Never have I beheld such gracious faces. Natalie, you're not beautiful in a classical way, with flowing blonde curls and ivory skin; no piercing green eyes – but in your ordinariness, you're _stunning_. Something radiates from within you that could be seen as irresistible to both males and females. Guys in the Games are gonna desire you, and girls will court your friendship.''

 _Oh, no._ When Chantell turns to look at me and struts in my direction, I shiver on the inside. _Please don't talk about my looks._

''Condor, love,'' Chantell bends down as she stares me in my eyes, placing a soft hand under my chin and caressing my cheeks with her thumb and middle finger. ''You just have the kind of face that stops people in their tracks. I'm sure you're probably used to that, the sudden pause in peoples' natural expressions when they look your way, followed by a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. I could just stand here and play with your tousled honey blonde hair for days because of how thick and lustrous it is.''

''Um, what are you doing?'' Relmo frets. He quickly bounces up onto his feet and holds his arms out in confusion. ''Aren't you my girlfriend? He doesn't need you to be touchy, so what's the deal?''

''Don't be so jealous,'' she winks. ''Besides, I was just trying to build up some confidence. They both have the looks to be sponsored and kept around for a bit, and I wanted to make sure that they knew that.''

''Yeah, maybe that's true, but can we not talk about looks?'' I politely grasp her hand and move it away from my face. ''It's such a sore topic, you know? Listening to people speak about my facial features gets repetitive and annoying.''

''Aw, are you sensitive to that topic?'' she teases, slapping her hand on my arms. ''Come on, someone as strong and defined as you probably pulls all the girls in our District. Your features are basically molded from granite.''

My face flushes bright red. ''I'm serious.''

''It's hard to take you seriously when you look so cute,'' she flat out says.

''Okay, stop!''

''Are you annoyed?''

''Yes, I'm annoyed. I'm trying to ignore this type of discussion, but when you keep testing me like that, it makes it difficult to keep wearing a fake mask.''

''Yeah, Chan,'' Relmo groans. ''What the hell is up with that?''

''I guess he's heard it too many times, huh,'' she jokes. ''Stop being so jealous, would you?''

''Why would I be envious of Condor?'' he counters. ''Besides, even if I was, how am I supposed to control myself when I see you hitting on another guy? No boyfriend wants to see his girl flirting with someone else – especially if he's like six years under your age.''

Making her way over to Relmo and wrapping an arm around his waist, she says, ''Calm down, dude. I didn't mean for it to be that consequential. You know I'd never look at another guy the same way I look at you. I just wanted to make it crystal clear that they have opportunistic advantages over some of the other tributes that we've seen. It could really benefit them if they profited with what they're blessed with, but neither of them seem to be convinced.''

''I know what I'm blessed with,'' I hint, catching their stares. ''Maybe I just don't appreciate it being my main focus.'' _Even though your looks and physicality are the only things important about you? What else is there that you have?_ ''Or anyone else's looks, as a matter of fact.''

Cocking her head to the side, Chantell argues, ''That's the thing. You don't use your looks to get you far. Just by looking at how fit and beautiful you are, people are gonna be lining up to sponsor you. And what happens if you get asked a question about your looks during the interviews? Are you just gonna shut Addison down and run off the stage, and potentially lose the audience's attention?''

 _No,_ I wanna say, but I'm not even sure what I'd do if that were to occur. Hesitantly, I open up my mouth, but before I can say anything, Chantell shifts her regard to Natalie.

''And you – don't think I haven't noticed any of your weaknesses. You have such a bland look on your face all the time, and it bothers me. Stop sulking – and yeah, maybe you're not sad, maybe that's just your face, but you need to fix it right now. Nobody is gonna care for a girl whose imperfections stand out more than her beauty. That's not good.''

''How's she supposed to change that if it's natural?'' I ask, looking at Natalie as she descends her head towards her chest. There's a weird look of pain on her face that appears to show anxiety building up inside of her.

''We all learn how to mask our true feelings, and if she wants to survive, she'll find a solution to her problem one way or another.''

 _What?_ ''That makes no sense to me. Besides, even if she could, what's the good of enlightenment if there's no way to make a difference? She can smile and look happy as much as she wants, but the reaping won't be undone.''

''That may be true; although, I have confidence that she'll figure it out, but the real question is: will you?''

* * *

 **Lucretia Hanover, District Six**

* * *

''She's quite pitiful, to say the least,'' I growl, stating my observations as I make note of the District Three female. ''Her verbal outcry is disgustingly humiliating.''

''Do you have anything nice to say at all?'' Lachlan snaps, his hands placed upwards with discontent.

''Are you dissatisfied with my facts?'' I accuse. He looks at me with disbelief in his eyes, as if he's ready to scream and rip his hair out.

''Yes! Because they're not facts!'' he shouts. Placing a hand on my chest, I lean back and give him an undesirable stare. ''Everything that's come out of your mouth so far has been an opinion that no-one here wants to hear. Bree's tired of it, I'm tired of it, and even Dalan's tired of it.''

''And I'm tired of you and I being in the same room together, but I haven't said a thing about it.''

''You told me literally five minutes ago that being in a room with such a poor 'scumbag' like me is the most unfortunate thing that you've ever faced in your life.''

''That's because you're not on the same level as Bree, Dalan and I.''

''What level are you talking about? Wealth? My family is financially stable.''

''Not wealthy enough. Compared to me, you're poor, disgusting, and have no manners,'' I inform. ''Those are only three reasons as to why you will be one of the first few to die. It would be a shame to see you make it past the Bloodbath – a life as terrible as yours should be ended quickly.''

''You're such a fucking bitch.'' There's no trace of sympathy in his eyes for what he just called me, and I gasp, as I've never before in my life ever been called such a foul name. His eyes are narrowed, rigid, cold and hard. The whites in them turn pure black, and his irises glower teal. Symbols, lines and dots form in his eyes, his lethal stare feeling painful and piercing.

''Call me that again, and I'll make sure that my allies kill you slowly.''

''What allies?'' Bree asks, placing a hand on her forehead. Her body's shaking rapidly, but it's a bit difficult to notice. Making note of her surprise, I give her a smug smile and purse my lips.

''The Careers, of course,'' I notify. ''As soon as I saw all six of them volunteer, I knew that it was a go. Although, if I could make any adjustments, I'd replace that arrogant boy from Four with... let's see, the boy from Nine. If their roles were reversed, then we'd be the perfect pack. The boy from Two could fix his attitude a bit, too, but besides that, all of them look wealthy and strong.''

''Since when was it decided that you were in the Pack?'' Bree scoffs.

''I just told you, ever since I witnessed their reapings,'' I repeat. ''You're lucky that you're on a higher status than I am. If you were any other person, I'd put you in your place.''

''I _dare_ you to _try_ and put me in my place.''

Sucking on my teeth, I look away from Bree and say, ''There's no need to try. Honestly, it'd be a waste of time. We're both too good for that type of behavior.''

Lachlan shakes his head. ''Why are you so rude?''

Inclining my own, I reply with, ''I'm not rude; I'm honest. People of your quality have nothing to offer, therefore, you should be silenced.''

''You made us repeat the reaping five times just to make fun of the tributes. That's not rude?''

''You're not entitled to speak to me, do you understand that?''

''And you're not entitled to claim yourself as part of the Career Pack!'' Bree steps in, defending Lachlan.

''Yes, I am. We have already settled on it.''

''There's no _we_ in the Games! What's wrong with you? Only one of you makes it out alive, and if you haven't gotten it through your thick skull yet, your father's fucking money isn't enough to assure your safety! The prosperity that you guys have is merely a joke to these Capitolites!''

Dalan approaches Bree and holds her arm for some reason. _Enough is enough._ ''Just because you lost all three of your pathetic allies last year doesn't mean that you have to criticize me. Those insignificant janokes died for a reason. Your argument is almost as porous as my mother's logic, Br—''

Before I even know it, Bree's on top of me and a barrage of fists come crashing down against my face. Things go numb quickly, and I'm unsure of whether I'm still conscious or not because of the dim light that's gradually fading.

''Don't ever disrespect people like that!'' I can barely make out her words; they are all jumbled up. ''You leave... Kaster, Beckett and Poet... I better not hear... coming out of your mouth again, you... obnoxious idiot!''

Suddenly, she's dragged off of me with the help of Dalan and Lachlan. While I can hear Bree's legs whooshing through the air and kicking out, I can also understand that she says, ''If I didn't do something, she'd continue to treat people like the carpet she walks on! This isn't the perfect world that she used to live in – serious shit goes down from here on out, and nobody's going to take it from her! Especially not _me_!''

''Bree, Bree, calm down...'' Dalan's voice goes quiet when the door slams shut, and then they're gone.

I can only gasp for fresh air, as it's gotten more difficult to breathe now. The lack of breath due to the wind being knocked out of me keeps me incapacitated for the time being, and I can only fight to re-inflate my lungs.

Peeking over me, Lachlan clasps a hand over his mouth as he approaches my crumpled body. ''Damn, your eyes are swollen over, and there's bloody spit drooling from your slack jaw... The purple stain above your eyebrow just started to sink into your socket, too.''

 _It's called a black eye, you uneducated clown,_ I want to retort when I hear him snort.

''You're now as revolting as you should be – the outside reflects the girl within.''

* * *

 **Aaliyah Ransier, District Eleven**

* * *

Taking my eyes off of the crystal clear window, I rest my head against my arm as I bring my knees up to my chest, as if watching the window is too much. Night time rolls around quicker than I expected it to, and with each movement of this passing train, the more heavy my limbs become.

My heart begins to slow to a more peaceful beat, the comfort of this bed calling my name. Slowly, my head drifts off to the side, allowing my laden eyelids to close and reopen. I feel the shuttering of my synapses, quietly being lured into slumber.

Then, a knock comes from my door. No response from me. Once again, whoever is outside knocks, and I don't reply. Suddenly, the door thrusts open and Conley walks inside. He gives me a curt nod before slamming the door shut, the noise sounding like a punctuation.

Startled by his unplanned appearance, I jump a little. ''Really?''

''Look at you, with your slightly-pink eyed look and slouched shoulders,'' he laughs. ''If you don't go to sleep soon, this'll turn into an interesting sleepover.''

''Sleepover?'' I inquire. ''When did I ever say that I _allowed_ you to enter my room and come cuddle with me on my bed?''

''Since when did I need your permission to talk to you? After all, I'm the one who's mentoring you.'' I look at him with a long-suffering stare, rolling my eyes and rotating my shoulders. ''And why would you assume that I wanna cuddle?''

''You're basically the dark-skinned version of Gari Salvatore – besides the color, you two are practically the same person. Known around District Eleven as the local fuckboy, the self-proclaimed pussy magnet, and the Victor of the One Hundred Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games, ladies and gentleman: Conley Sevaro! Why wouldn't I have my suspicions?''

Slapping his knee and resisting the urge to guffaw, he coughs out, ''Looks like we both have something in common.''

''And what would that be?''

''We're both known for negative things – me with my antics, and you for being just like your brothers.''

When he says that, I don't feel quite so tired anymore. ''Oh, and you know that I'm exactly like my brothers, how?''

''People talk about you,'' he answers. ''Almost everybody knows you three. You aren't surprised, are you?''

''I'm not.'' I can't stand this conversation; I can't stand being around anyone in general right now. _Think of something fast._ ''God, I hate life because of people like you who are so quick to jump to conclusions. You make me want to slit my wrist and bleed to death.''

''Man, you're really unlikable and pessimistic.''

''Wow, I totally care, right? Because the opinions of idiots like you definitely matter to me.'' Thinking of something else to remark, I add, ''Is that why Cythrie doesn't want to mentor me?''

''No, I just wanted you to myself.''

''Well, you got me. Can you go now?'' I turn away from him, gesturing with my hands and averting my attention back to the window.

 _Even my mentor isn't able to see me as my own person. Instead, he's just like everyone else and compares me to my brothers. They're all mad quick to surmise._

''At least make yourself approachable,'' he tries.

''No. What's the point? Attempting to please people at this stage in life is fruitless. Right now, I don't care whether people think I'm nice, mean, pretty, ugly, or whatever. Nothing's gonna change.''

''Aaliyah, you don't even understand how dire of a situation you're in. The opinions of people in Eleven don't matter anymore, but the citizens in the Capitol... they're your ticket to victory.''

''Conley, get out. I don't care.''

''Aaliyah, if you'd just listen to m—''

Grabbing the first pillow that my hand comes into contact with, I turn around and fling it at Conley, silencing his words. ''Get out!''

Backing up, he holds his hands in the air as if he's surrendered, and quietly makes his way to the door, placing one of his hands on the knob. I'm used to dealing with ignorant people, but for once in my life, I thought it'd be different. Just a little bit.

Closing my eyes, I wait until the door opens and closes, but the sound never comes. When I open them once more, Conley's got a hand on my shoulder, the other pointing at the window.

In the far distance, way high up in the sky, multiple skyscrapers tower above the route to the Capitol as great monoliths of concrete and glass. The windows are so large that they remind me of a storefront, but they're so high up that it's impossible to see through them, anyway. It's triple-glazed and so clear that the panorama is like a high definition screen – like the ones at the reaping.

Nocturnal birds fly through the sky, traveling past us, buffeted by the winds that whistle outside of this train. This entire scenery is just so futuristic. ''See how beautiful nighttime is? It's the best time of the day, in my opinion. If we were on a beach right now, the scorching heat of the outside world would surrender to the onshore breeze, and we could stay there without the need to cover every inch of our skin.'' Sounding a bit poetic, Conley continues with, ''The stars would come as if to welcome us back to the hours of comfort and relaxation. We'd sit, our heads tilted toward the sky, observing the constellations and the patina of the moon. You'd be surprised with how long I could sit you up and chatter away at the small hours, lying in some sort of long grass with a backdrop of crickets. I can help you get away from the isolation that you crave.''

I don't want to be here, despite his genuine slur of speech. Even if it means lying to myself, he's kind of growing on me, and I _need_ his assistance. ''How can I trust you?''

''Do you remember Ceres? Do you remember last years' Games?'' he asks, inching his hand downward until it meets mine. Nodding my head, I don't shy away from him grasping it. ''I can get you as far as I got her. And I won't let you down, I promise.''

 _Okay._ Nodding, I sigh with belief, removing his grip from mine and mounting my bed fully, cushioning myself in a warm blanket. ''I trust you.''

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! So, it's been like two weeks since my last update. Tbh, I don't know because I've lost track of time. All I know is that last time I said that it's been easier than I thought to manage all the stuff that's on my plate, but I spoke too soon and lied. No way in hell is this stuff easy, and honestly, I'm fed up with school right now. I appreciate the good lucks, but I hope that everyone can relate when I say that studying is stressful. You'd think that with only a week left until exams hit, teachers wouldn't give you homework to do. My Algebra 2 Hon EOC is done, so I can understand having a few packets to work on until the end of school, but if I'm being deadass, I bombed that exam. Hopefully it's curved like a mf because shit had me mad confused. Besides that, everything else is complete ass. I've got an AICE writing test coming up, and my teacher admitted that we wasted half of the year doing stupid poetry projects and now I gotta read this long ass poem within a week, on top of other classes to study for. I mean, I don't blame her because she tried her hardest to get us through this stuff, but I totally blame her.  
**

 **Anyway, sorry for the little... whatever you call that. Had to get that through with, and when you've expressed it enough multiple times in real life, it's good to throw it out online. Okay, now the chapter? I know that not everyone likes the c-word - I think some people find it offensive, but Darren's character, in my mind, I see as this really grumpy British-sounding guy that isn't afraid to let his tongue loose. And I hear a ton of British people in YouTube videos and just random comedy skits calling others cunts, so I dunno what type of effect that has on others. Doesn't bother me, but that doesn't mean that some readers out there don't take offense to it, so I'm sorry if it hurts you or something. But yeah, that's why I put as a notice that there'd be cursing, and I just write whatever I picture these tributes letting out. And we all know that teens (some, most, the majority of us) have like, no filter. So... Besides all that, only four more weeks till summer vacation. I'll be able to let my foot off the pedal and allow the gas to run out, and then maybe I'll have consistent updates. I've never been one to have a schedule; it's always been whenever I can get the chapters up, so bear with me, please. Questions, now?**

* * *

 **Favorite tribute, why?**

 **Least favorite, why?**

 **Opinions or predictions for these five?**

 **Say your partner helps you through your stages of grief after being reaped, and with being thankful, you offer him/her an alliance. Instead of saying yes, he/she rejects you and basically calls you undesirable. Whatcha doin'? I hope not everyone says that they'd move on and just forget about it, because that'd be borinnnngggggggg.**

* * *

 **Well, that's it. Oh, and I've changed up the name format. I see that a lot of people wanna see the name and District, so I'll fix that in the other chapters tomorrow. Later on in the story I'll remove it, because I think you'd all be accustomed to the tributes by then, and I just prefer the name only style. Hope that helps things become much more clear. It's late over here where I am, and I'm about ready to go to sleep. And, to anyone who's sent me messages through PM, Skype, SC or whatever other social media that y'all hmu on, my bad for the late or absent replies. School's the excuse, and yeah, it takes like two seconds to respond, but when you're completely over it but still wanna do good, your mind focuses on one thing only; at least, mine does. So, I'll do my best to get back to you guys as quickly as I can. Thanks for being patient, and I hope that no-one's thinking that I'm ignoring them. Ight, I'm over this for now. See y'all in the next chapter, and have a good night/morning/whatever! ^-^**


	6. Conveyance

**Chariot Rides:**

* * *

 _You're not going to get peace with millions of armed men and women.  
The chariot of peace cannot advance over a road littered with cannons._

* * *

 **Cassian Castellan, District Two**

* * *

''Wow, what a milieu.'' Raising my head and looking around the preparation room, I nod and say, ''Can't believe all this is for me.''

''Well, it is and it isn't for you.'' Suddenly, a man with a velvet undercut that's dyed honey brown at the tips and edges walks into the room. ''See, this is your assigned room, but you won't be here again after today. By the way, I'm your Head Stylist – Lyander Corveol. It's nice to meet you, Cassian.''

''It's nice to meet you, too,'' I respond.

With a clap, he summons three more stylists into the room – one more male with green hair and a disgustingly shaven beard, and two females who look way too giddy to be here. ''It's very exciting to be working with you, Mr. Castellan,'' one of the females states. ''I've been awaiting this day ever since I was appointed to take care of you along with these three.''

''Thanks, I appreciate that.'' Just to be nice and compliment them back, I add, ''You guys look great, so I'm positive that whatever outfit you have planned for me will work plenty.''

''Glad you think so,'' Lyander speaks up. ''But, if you wouldn't mind, in order to assure that all of the measurements that we've obtained are correct, I'm going to need you to strip down to your bare skin.''

''Hold up, what?'' I laugh, readying a joke. ''Sorry, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but I don't think I'm comfortable with two dudes staring at my, you know. But these two ladies right here, I don't have much of a problem with.''

''Oh, aren't you something,'' the quiet woman notes. ''Truly, I'm flattered.''

''Mr. Castellan, I can honestly tell you that you aren't the first boy that I've seen naked,'' he addresses. ''I've been dressing District Two volunteers for seven years now. All the past tributes you've seen die or come back alive, I saw them nude – and if it makes you feel any better, I make contact with people who are undressed at least four times a week.''

''If you say so,'' I mumble, shrugging. With that, I casually unbutton my collared shirt, untie my shoes, remove my socks, and slide off my ripped jeans and boxers until everything lies at my feet – then I kick them away. ''So now what?''

''Stand still as we begin to work on you. The examination process won't take too long.''

''How about what you do with my body? Will that be fugacious?'' I ask.

''It depends on how much we have to work with, really. Depending on your body hair and structures, it'll take a certain amount of time to get you completely prepared.''

''Body structures like... like my nuts?'' I chuckle, asking a ridiculous question.

''I suppose so.'' Looking me in the eye, Lyander wonders, ''Quite the immature Career, aren't we?''

Shrugging, I wait and watch as the other male and one of the females descend to view my lower body, while Lyander and his 'main' apprentice inspect my upper body. Immediately, both of the two that stand on their knees take out razors and start with my legs. Pieces of black stubble rain onto the white porcelain-tiled floor. Each stroke makes the speckles more dense, and some even tumble to the linoleum. Interested, I smile as my smooth skin emerges beautifully transformed from its before stage.

When they mount a bit higher, I let out, ''Like the view?''

Attempting to ignore my comment, the male replies with, ''That's a very inappropriate question, Mr. Castellan. I'm not inclined to answer that.''

''You upset that I have the biggest balls in the room? Or are you mad that I didn't take time to learn your name before giving you consent to touch my body?''

''Please don't be so insensitive,'' the female cries. ''We're just doing our jobs here.''

''I was just assuming that since you're already down there, you might as well tell me your opinions. Like, it's decent, right? As you can see, I'm not very cold.'' With a wink, I wait for either of these two to reply, but only Lyander's voice penetrates my ears.

''You are the most impulsive tribute that I have _ever_ worked with. Never before have I met a Career as disrespectful as you! It's a shame that you do not know how to act around other people.''

Shrugging, I take in a deep sigh and declare, ''I was only messing around with you guys. Learn how to take a joke every once in a while – not everything has to be taken seriously.'' _At least I got your attention._

After finally getting rid of all the natural hair on my body, Lyander aggressively bunches all of the thick hair on my head within one of his large hands, raising a stainless steel pair of scissors to the base of my forehead. In all the movies that I've seen, the protagonists just clip the scissors once and their hair would fall off as if they were nothing more than features – but in real life, I see that it takes many moments of hacking for just a small section to fall to the ground.

''Come with us, please.'' Following orders, I drag myself behind Lyander and his prep crew into a shower room, my toes flinching as they touch the chilled ceramic floor. One of the stylists turns the dial, new and metallic, releasing thousands of lukewarm drops, darkening my hair and trickling down my back.

As they're placing conditioner on my skin and shampooing my hair, I hear, ''Didn't you have a brother that volunteered for the Games a while back?''

Their question takes me by surprise, causing my eyes to open as the water drips down to my feet. ''Yeah, why?''

''I remember him clearly – Mr. Castellan was much more mature than you. It's a shame that he placed second to Chantell from Seven, but what can you do about it? I miss him dearly, but hopefully you'll take his place and come out on top. I hear that your family has a large amount of prodigious children. Is that true?''

Swallowing hard, I allow myself to remain collected, realizing that she isn't speaking down on his name – she's simply respecting him as he lies beyond the grave.

''Yeah... a couple of them are becoming Peacekeepers, and my other brother received a scholarship and is residing in the Capitol right now. Me, though... I'm the one that goes into the Games to complete an unfinished task. Everybody knows what they want, really.''

 _Except for me. It wasn't even my idea to volunteer, either. So..._

 _...why exactly am I here?_

* * *

 **Helena Vasilev, District Twelve**

* * *

Across the garage, I inspect the other tributes, taking their chariot outfits into my head and smiling along the way. The male District Four mentor – Brylan Wildur – stops talking for a second and glances at my moving frame, eyeing my outfit and nodding his head in approval. His tributes turn around, the boy staring at me with disdain and letting out a groan; the girl, on the other hand, looks at me plainly, unaffected by my appearance.

''Hey!'' I say, waving as Gebria and I pass by the other stylists, mentors and tributes. Four's outfits are kind of... revealing, to say the least. Granted, their outfits are like this every year, but literally, all they have thrown over their heads are fishnets. They're also wearing boots that are encrusted with starfish and different types of exotic aquatic life, and there are tubes that allow water to flow from the opened lace holes in them. I kinda feel bad for the girl, though, because I doubt that she wants her boobs being flashed on television like that, in front of millions. And knowing the Capitol, they don't censor anything Hunger Games related. The boy, though, is confident for a reason that I can't seem to figure out.

I've gotta give props to their stylists – the helmets that they wear are golden, tracing from the top of their heads and splitting right before their chins. There's an emerald sitting in the middle, directly above their foreheads, and the teal wings that stick out of them flap forward, pushing water out and wetting their hair and bodies even more than they currently are, making them look as if they're oiled up and glistening with steam.

''So... you have one of _those_?'' Gebria speaks up. Gazing, I turn my head up and raise an eyebrow. Ever since she saw me naked, I could tell that she's been questioning my gender.

''One of what?'' I ask, messing around with her.

She gives me a put-upon sigh, stating, ''You know what I'm talking about. After years of working with District Twelve tributes in general, I've never seen a female with a male's part before. Is this normal in your District and I've been missing out on it, or..?''

''No, it's not common at all. I don't think it's common in any District, actually,'' I admit, placing my hands on my hips. ''I'm just a special case.''

''I'm sorry, I don't mean to ask you personal questions, but, why exactly are you like this? Was it fate that cursed you?''

''No, I don't believe in fate. You might not presume that I'm telling the truth, but I actually decided to be this way, coming out when I was eleven. My father was disheartened, though.''

''Why?''

''Because our District already has low fertility rates, and, well, I think you can figure out the rest of the story. Besides, it's not really a curse, to tell you the truth.''

''Is it hard to find love because of your, you know?'' she asks. ''Do the guys repel you and turn the other way?''

''Actually, no. I _did_ have a significant other, but...''

''But?''

''He died,'' I cough. ''Some disease spread throughout the District, I'm sure you've heard about it. It killed thousands, and unfortunately, Peras was one of the people who succumbed to the illness. Slowly, our population is dwindling at a steady rate, as you can see.''

''I'm sorry to hear that, but at least you were able to live your life normally. Are you going to remain this way forever, or is there another step?''

''Well, I'm not done transforming yet, so there's that.''

''And when will you be done?''

''After I win, of course,'' I speak up, confident in my demeanor. ''And before you even ask, yes, I know that I have the ability to win. I might not be trained like some other tributes, but I believe in myself. If I wanna win, I'm gonna go out there and do everything in my power to make sure that I come out alive, reigning as the current Victor. There's such thing as freedom of choice, and I'll use mine to make sure that my destiny ends in me escaping victorious.''

After finally arriving to our chariot in the back, I grin when I see Calieh and Joydin speaking to Aspen, seemingly giving him some important advice. Their eyes gleam up when they hear footsteps approaching them, and Aspen turns around, winking at me. ''Well, hello, beautiful.''

''Calm yourself,'' I end the flirting before it can even begin. Looking him up and down, I finally get to see what my outfit looks like when worn by someone else – and really, both of us are rocking it. Our bodies are covered entirely of coal, shaped in the form of an armored shield that covers our chests and upper sleeves. The coal eventually stops at our thighs, but for Aspen, they're in the form of shorts, while mine are designed to look like underwear. Our legs are covered with pieces of granite that scatter all around, and our feet are colored darkly to represent the blackened dirt that attracts easily. My toes are painted a sparkling gray along with my fingernails, with speckles of red constantly flashing to indicate an explosion.

Moving my hand over to my collar bone, I draw a hold on one of the translucent stones that protrude from my clothing. They barely twinkle in this poor lighting, but apparently something spectacular will happen when we step out. In other parts of my body, platinum and gold jewelry are set out. They're accessorized with rubies, sapphires and emeralds, considerably adding more to my weight.

''Now listen,'' Joydin orders, the old lady still having a bit of command in her voice. ''When you get out there, you are to be the most enjoyable and exciting tributes possible. Have fun, and don't let anything distract you from the early celebrations. It's hard, I know, to smile at people who anticipate your death, but don't do anything that would be frowned upon.''

''Make yourselves stand out, as well,'' Calieh suggests. ''Dance, laugh, blow kisses. Play around with e-each o-oth—'' His words are interrupted with a deadly cough that shakes me to the core, making me feel butterflies surfacing from my stomach. _His cough reminds me of Peras'..._ ''—er. Feed off of one a-another and m-make yourselves pleasurable. B-Believe me, i-if you do everything that you can to stand out, these Capitolites will exact their rights of provision on you two.''

Nodding my head accordingly, I agree with their words. ''Thank you for the guidance. We appreciate it.''

Before they can respond, a voice comes on the intercom above: _''Tributes, please make your way toward your chariots and prepare for dismissal. Make sure to stand still and do not step off because you will be transported into the streets in just a few seconds. That is all, thank you.''_

Grabbing Aspen's hand, I haul myself onto our chariot and aid him in ascending, too. ''Get ready, kid. We're gonna steal the show.''

* * *

 **Gracie Sullivan, District Ten**

* * *

The streets are glorious in inception. The sidewalks are smooth, gray stones joined with precision that the walls of concrete are used to hold the Capitolites away from us. They're much more akin to the construction of a modernist skyscraper – something that we don't have back in Ten.

Up ahead, I see that the buildings that tower in the sky are nothing short of gargantuan, the bastions of the city's pride, stamping in the center of the Capitol as a financially significant place for all of the people here to explore. Some of the wealthier people in the crowds are already cheering and throwing items out, clapping and whistling for the tributes that are making their presences known.

To my left and my right, there are Capitol musicians beating drums and playing fancy instruments that I've never seen before in my life. The resonating sounds put a melody in my head, making me dance along and sing with the beat. But that's not what excites me or grabs my attention.

The horses do.

Our horse is extremely beautiful, with the wind whispering his hair into the air like flames. ''Wellington'' is what I've decided to call him, although I'm sure that he has a name already. The thundering of his hooves split through the loud noises ahead as he gallops through the urban landscape.

His muscles ripple from under his freshly groomed pelt and his powerful legs, propelling the chariot that Mackenzie and me are standing on forward. _I can't hold it in anymore!_

The peace and quiet that Mackenzie and me shared is soon shattered by my excitement – screaming with delight, whooping into the frigid air as we continue to move. Through my peripheral vision, I notice the heads turning and staring our way. My lips twitch into an incredibly wide smile, my teeth glaring in the sunshine as I can't help but shake and jog in place.

''What's wrong with you?'' Mackenzie asks, moving away from me slowly. ''You look like you're being jangled by invisible strings or something, but apparently your puppeteer is drunk...''

It doesn't stop, though. ''Seriously!'' he cries. ''Stop bouncing, pouncing, and squealing! It's hurting my ears and you're making all of the other tributes look at us!''

''Did you know that the horse that's carrying us is a Friesian horse?'' I inform. ''I read about them back in District Ten, and I always searched for one, but they're so rare where we're located. I begged my daddy so many times to get me one of them, and even though we never actually acquired one, it's okay – because I have one now!''

''Okay? I didn't ask.''

''Did you know that although the conformation of the breed resembles that of a light draft horse, Friesians are graceful and nimble for their size?!''

''Gracie, I don't ca—''

''They've been around for centuries, way before Panem was even a country, so they're actually quite ancient.''

''I—''

''They're not always black, either. I bet you didn't know that, did ya?'' Looking up at the black fur, the images of different colors flash across my mind. ''These breeds are sometimes born chestnut, but they aren't usually registered in Panem. There are only one in every three thousand, though I bet most of them are actually located here.''

Jumping up and down and slapping my hands against the lining of our chariot, I accidentally unbutton one of my overall straps and let it hang against the side of my ribs. My boots clang repeatedly, and I inadvertently lose my balance, taking a few faltering steps towards Mackenzie. ''They also—''

''Gracie, shut up! I don't care, and you talk too much about these stupid horses!'' he yells at me, trying to hold himself straight as he's hanging on the edge of our chariot. ''Also, watch out. There's a thing called personal space, and you're violating mine!''

Unfortunately for me, I see it coming before I can avoid it. The heat of Mackenzie's fingers creep into my consciousness, making me want to yell my heart out. It's an invasion, an unwanted and uninvited touch. The palms of his hands rest against both of my shoulders, and that's when I snap.

There's no winding period – no warning – in my tantrum. It's a full force from the very start like a bomb with no fuse, just an immediate explosion. I scream as loudly as I can, as if I'm being beaten with a stick, grabbing Mackenzie by his arms and pulling him with me as I stumble backwards and lose my footing.

One of the flowers that was sitting above my ears falls off to the ground, just like me and Mackenzie. Both of us land roughly against the concrete floor of the Capitol's main road, grunting and rubbing our heads in anger.

Just then, I see multiple flowers being thrown at our chariot, lying on the ruby-plated floor like frozen flames, bringing their cool blaze to the warm spring morning.

''Wellington!'' I shout, attempting to get up – but I can't, because Mackenzie's childish body is hovering over my legs, trapping me on the ground. He looks at me angrily, throwing himself up but continuously falling when his feet make contact with my elastic leggings, forcing him to slip back down.

''Get off of me, Mackenzie!'' My scream rents the air like a siren; nobody screams like this unless it's terror beyond annoyance, or unless they want something that they're unable to receive.

''Ah, shut your mouth!'' he demands, placing his hands over his ears. ''You scream like a kid, and it's hurting my ears!''

Once again, every head turns to us. Our bodies are plastered on the monitors above, displaying us in front of the entire nation. The tributes from Eleven pass us by, shaking their heads and looking at us with puzzling gazes. Twelve does the exact same. District Thirteen's female tribute simply turns away from us, while the boy gives us a look of solicitude. ''Get up,'' he whispers.

''Mackenzie!'' I bark, divesting his body off of mine by repeatedly pounding him against the head, but he fights me right back, forcing me to bite at his arms.

The two of us stay on the floor, rolling around and tearing our clothes to pieces for minutes on end. Really, I don't know when it'll end.

* * *

 **Sebastian Hammond, District Five**

* * *

Peering up at the monitors above, I shake my head at the two tributes from Ten that are fighting each other on the street floor, rolling around and tearing their chariot outfits as they exchange blows.

Imogen's giggles pass by my ear, her innocent voice sounding way too friendly. If it were me laughing, I'd make sure that I sounded as acrid as possible. ''Aw, that must suck for them.''

''Who cares?'' I say. ''That's what they get for being idiots. They were specifically told to stay in their chariots, so why would they start fighting and ruin their chances at sponsors?''

Returning my attention back to the front, I notice Imogen looking at me with her hands crossed together. Maybe she doesn't like my negativity, but maybe I don't care.

''Stop being so pessimistic, Seb.''

''Why are you calling me 'Seb'? My name's Sebastian. I don't even know you well enough to be given nicknames,'' I retort. ''And stop being so optimistic. You must be naïve to believe that anything good comes from this.''

Waiting for her to respond so that I can debunk her argument, I notice that it never comes. Instead, she's staring up ahead, where the District Two tributes replace the ones from Ten on the monitors. Both of them wear breathtaking white robes that have arrows swerving and circling throughout the outfit, representing blood, I believe. I say that because the red is faintly dripping at their bandaged legs, and on their waists are weapon-covered belts that have all types of dangerous items in them.

The two boy takes out a knife and flings it into the air, following that with a smoke pellet that erupts when the two make contact. Not to mention that they have falcon-like, blood-smeared wings that are painted in an aura of burning, crimson red – and they actually work, allowing the two of them to hover just a bit.

The boy leans his cheek towards his District partner's face, asking for a kiss, I think. She denies him at first, but then he says something, probably convincing her to do it. She leans in, ready to give him a peck, but then he quickly turns his face and presses his lips against hers, grabbing her left hand and raising it into the air as he cries out a bellow of triumph. The Capitol easily falls for his actions, decorating their chariot with coins, jewelry, panties, shirts, shoes – anything that these men and women can easily throw out there.

Wanting to get into the action, the District Twelve tributes manage to find a way to project their District number into the air. On the monitors, it shows the luxurious jewels on their bodies concentrating the sunlight that's penetrating them, and together, like a puzzle piece, they bounce off of one another until they project a hollow number twelve in the air, allowing the two to procure the same amount of love that the Careers gained just a few moments ago.

Realizing that everyone else is stealing the show, I quickly begin to fidget with my arena outfit, as I _have_ to make a quick decision in order to compel the audience to look my way – but I work while not thinking properly, unaware of what I'm doing.

Playing with my outfit seems like the best thing to do, so I look down at my starry-studded, open-buttoned suit and mess around with my bow. Sticking out of my clothes are a bunch of electrical input devices, but I'm not exactly sure how to start them up.

A loud zap emits from the left of me, and steam begins to descend upon Imogen and I. Turning, I gape when I see her taking out the stars on her opened blue cardigan, tossing them up into the air, and controlling the electrical flow that begins at the ends of her skirt, traveling down the dual tube of plugs that zap at her golden high heels. The electrical currents bounce off of our chariot and strike the little stars, causing the number five to appear in the sky everywhere I turn my head.

 _How could she be implementing this? She has no clue what she's even doing and just decided to carry out whatever seemed best, just like I tried to do. That's so stupid, though!_

''Hmm, what's wrong?'' Imogen asks, probably aware of the scowl on my face. Removing the nasty look from my features, I turn away from her. ''Are you upset about something?''

''There's no reason for me to be upset, and it's none of your concern,'' I reply harshly. _But I am upset. I want something way bigger than to just be upstaged by everyone around me; I want more than to just be cast aside and left as nothing more than a waste of space._

''Aw, are you jealous that Cassian was kissed by Camille? Do you want that type of love?'' she teases, winking as she lowers her body to meet my height. ''You've never been kissed before, have you?''

''What—? N-No, that's not it— I-I don't even care for such a silly act of—''

''Come here!'' she coos, grabbing me by my shoulders. As Imogen draws closer, I feel my heart beat so hard that I fear she'll hear it. I'm praying so badly that this doesn't turn into an awkward moment, that this weird relationship that we have won't become so affectionate – that she won't treat me like this.

With my eyes closed, I feel Imogen's painted nails softly dig into the underside of my jaw, elevating my head upwards as I sense her lips... on my cheek. It's a peck that an older sister would place on her younger brother. But it's not just one; it's at least fifteen. Over and over again, both sides of my cheeks are stained with red lipstick, along with my nose, my forehead, and my chin.

I turn away to avoid Imogen's gaze, but the sudden rosiness of my cheeks gives me away. ''Here, let me help you out,'' she offers. ''See the little plugs at your feet? Remove the stars from your bow and place the two together, and then throw the star up into the air – the result of that action will be a spark that allows the two to interact and create something beautiful. Or, if you want, you can simply launch it by holding down on the tubes. Here, try it.''

With her guidance, her hand placed on mine, I throw one up into the air and watch as the blue light pops the golden piece of luxury. Suddenly, everything seems much brighter. To my amazement, the reaction doesn't just create a five – no, there's much more to it.

Inspecting the stars much more closely, I discover the glistening of its opalescent, glitter-covered light. The fireworks that produce behind the haze explode above, vivid colors igniting the autumn-colored sky. The air has a tincture of gun powder, a smell that takes me back to the bonfires that I never got a chance to enjoy back in Five. _Just how odd is it to be witnessing something that you could never appreciate before..?_

''Get closer, Seb! Don't be afraid,'' Imogen laughs, placing her hands underneath my armpits and hoisting me up into the air. We're projected on the overhead screens, and as we continue to let out an exciting launch of flares, the reactions of other tributes are shown.

The girl from One is laughing and clapping excitedly, while her partner has a small smile on his face. The two from Four are even sharing a delicate moment of friendliness together as they watch us mess around, the girl grinning widely.

 _This is just the type of occasion that you can't help but smile at when you see it before your own eyes._

My mouth twitches, and I attempt to fight back a simper, but with the way that my lips tug upward and my teeth become perfectly aligned, I can't help but let out a genuine grin.

 _For once, I can say that I've received something... nice._

* * *

 **Camille Lussier, District Two**

* * *

This penthouse resembles a home that those extra rich people in Two would buy when they get paranoid about having too much money. It's like a fortress, the only problem being that the floors above belong to the other Districts.

Either way, it's hard to even fathom how much this all costs to live in. With a quick check, I look back at the elevator of our main room, awaiting Cassian's arrival. ''Where is he?''

The television screen is playing recaps of the chariot rides, but because I've seen them already – I was actually in them – I flip the channels until I land on some kind of sitcom. _He thinks he's smart, doesn't he? He used me to his advantage in order to make sure that he looked like the one who was enjoying their company. Fine. I'll teach him a lesson, then._

Since I've already met the bad side of Cassian, I don't think it matters if I fuck around with him or not. Really, I'm tired of being nice to people anyways – it's much easier to let loose and use what I have to my advantage, like I've been doing for years.

''Yeah, I think it was pretty good.'' Sianna's voice causes me to flinch, so I decide to slump downwards on the couch, slowly taking a sip of the icy cold water in my glass cup. ''Both of them were aware of what they needed to do, so I—''

 _Shit._ Not bothering to shy away anymore, I slide upwards and meet their gazes.

''What are you doing?'' Marelle questions, her hands slapping against her eyelids and sliding down her face.

''Just waiting for Cassian.'' I respond.

''Waiting for him while sitting there in nothing but your strapless lingerie?'' She seems appalled, judging by her tone. But then she attempts to stifle a laugh. ''You know he's gonna be uncomfortable when he gets here, right? I mean, three adult females – one of them in lingerie – in a room with a lone boy? That spells out trouble. _Fun_ trouble.''

''Are you seriously condoning this?'' Sianna asks.

''You can get some, too, if you want. Come on,'' I purr, patting on the cushion right beside me and blowing a kiss. ''We're all mature adults here, and we can make reasonable decisions, you know?''

''No thanks,'' she denies my request, turning away and strutting towards the kitchen.

''Your loss.'' Facing Marelle again, I inquire, ''Where's Cassian, anyway?''

''Last time I saw him, he was walking around and interacting with the other tributes. He should be here in a few—''

A loud ding stops her from finishing her sentence, and Cassian emerges into the center of our comfy home. Inside the elevator, I see white marble walls and the silver handrail that made me stare in awe at first sight. He takes small, soft steps over the blue carpet, allowing the doors to slide shut and letting the elevator go back down to the main lobby underneath District One's floor. ''—minutes.''

''Sorry that I came back so late. The crazy chick from Five kept messing around with the elevator buttons and sent us all the way up to District Twelve's floor, so I had to wait in order to get back. She ran around and started opening doors and closing them randomly, and nobody knew what that was about, so... yeah.''

Jumping out of my seat, I quickly jog towards Cassian, my feet touching the cold floor. ''Hey, buddy!'' _You started it and used me for your own personal use, so I'm going to do the same to you._ Sticking out my hand, I wait until he holds it and then begin to massage his smooth, pampered knuckles.

''Uh, you good?'' He tries to draw away from me, but I clutch onto him tightly. ''You seem like you want me for something...'' He then sees my attire. ''Oh?''

Smiling in order to distract him from his previous thoughts, I say, ''I'm perfectly fine. And I just wanted to ask you if it's okay that I rely on you for a bit. Like, in the arena, can we be actual District partners and fight together, protect each other and not back-stab? I've seen it happen way too many times, and I don't want us to be like the previous few – so let's maximize the chances of Two gaining another Victor, okay?''

''Of course,'' he says quickly, catching me by surprise. ''You didn't need to ask, you know? Loyalty is something that I take pride in, and I'd never betray a fellow ally.''

Surprised by his comment, I slowly back my hand away, feeling like I might actually be able to let up with him around. But then he opens up his mouth again and makes a disgusting joke, which wasn't all that bad, actually. ''But... I didn't know you craved me like this, Camille. And in front of our mentors? They must be in on this, too. Don't you guys think it's a little naughty to be expecting of me to do something so freaky with you three?''

''Gross,'' Sianna simply says, returning to her regular activity.

 _Lead him on and make him think that you're down to get dirty._ ''Definitely. If you wanna, we can do something right now, but I don't think Sianna and Marelle are interested in joining. But that's good, because it only further means that I have you all to _myself..._ ''

''Yeah I suppose so. Really, though, you could've at least worn a push-up bra to make me _think_ that you had a busty pair.'' When he says this, I twitch internally. ''Your body's your most important asset, so learn to use it to your advantage, kiddo.'' With a pat to my head, he begins to walk off, but when he sees that I haven't moved, he asks, ''Are you really 'bout it, or are we doing something lame like base one?''

''Um, actually, I'm not really in the mood anymore,'' I make up an excuse. _What a scumbag!_ My body is apparently my greatest asset, huh? Not my mind, not my intelligence, not my ability to manipulate people as much as I have already, right?! ''But thank you for suggestions. I'll take them as compliments and use your words to further develop my... body.''

Nodding, he walks into his own room and leaves me to myself. My fists clench tightly, almost to the point where I become white-knuckled, and my eyebrows furrow, as if the smoke of anger that's sitting in my head is visible.

''Ooh, someone's mad...'' Marelle eggs on.

''Damn right, I'm fucking mad. I went out of my way to get something that'll help me in the long-run, and I obtained it, but the kid told me that the most important part of myself was my body. _He_ told _me_ what _my_ best feature was. He insulted me. Who the fuck does he think he is?''

''You're selfish, Camille, and I like that,'' Marelle proclaims. ''Just make sure that you don't get blindsided, okay? But don't get too upset. He's your ally and loyal partner. Boys will be boys, we've all been through this before.''

''Preach!'' Sianna announces.

''Yeah, I guess they will be,'' I sigh. ''But that doesn't mean that they can get away with insulting people without receiving some sort of payback. Cassian can think that I'll let it slide all he wants, but when the time's right, I'll get him back.''

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! Quick A/N here. I had a lot to say, but I decided to keep what I was planning for a later chapter, if it comes up. I know that I didn't write the President's announcement. If I did, it would've just been a repeat of the first two chapters, and I doubt that you guys wanted to go through that again. Besides, it would've been boring. There's nothing creative that I could've done with that. Maybe another bombing, but what's the point in being repetitive? Hopefully this chapter was enjoyable, though. Lastly, I know that I didn't fill you guys in on what every tribute was wearing, so here are the rest of the outfits below:**

 **District One - Golden Athenian robes decorated with extravagant Tanzanite and Taaffeite jewels, with a crystal sash and a queen-like/king-like headband.  
District Three - Chayona and Gideon were dressed in slim black attires that form colors at the gloves. Chayona represented water with a buzz of electricity, and Gideon represented fire with flame stains on his back. Together, a magenta, holographic, levitating circle held them up, an equal of the two colors mixed together.  
District Six - Both tributes are covered in speed suits that display bolts of color-changing lightning that varies, depending on their mood. A large Six stuck out from their backs, representing a turbo-engine to make them appear revved up.  
District Seven - Both from Seven are covered entirely in roots, different shades of leaves, and are wearing crowns that have vines hanging lively at their foreheads, signifying Condor and Natalie as king and queen, or better yet, protectors of the forest.  
District Eight - Dressed as genies, Eloise was speckled in a pink and violet garment, her sleeves stooping to her mid-shoulder, while Darren carried a cutlass with his vest open, allowing his chest to be revealed to the audience. The two chewed bubblegum and blew out large loads of the treat, sending various colors of bubbles flying into the atmosphere. Below them, smog and foam of purple, red, blue, yellow and green shot up, encompassing them in the lights that came from a rubbed lamp. The crowd went wild with these two.  
District Nine - With her hair done in a waterfall braid, Cherokee wore a grain-made dress that swirled down to her thighs and created a cape that resided at her bronze high heels. Wrapped around her arms were pieces of her hair used to mix a bit of color to her outfit, and a tattoo design swirled up her left leg. Millet wore a butler-like shirt, his hair styled in a curled up manner, supported with a headband. He wore a collared shirt under a suiting vest, his upper attire being pushed into his baggy, apron-covered pants, with a sparkling belt making an appearance.  
District Ten - Literal bulls. They were dressed like ancient warriors, measured with robes that carried bull heads on their naked arms, and even being designed to wear a bull helmet. There were autumn flowers scattered over their bodies, and a lasso tied around both of their waists. It shouldn't shock you that when they fell, they broke the hooves of their furred shoes.  
District Eleven - Can you say Nubian God and Goddess?  
District Thirteen - Dressed to impress, Pavel and Krissy wore post-apocalyptic outfits, appearing dirty on purpose. Pavel had on a technological, nuclear vest that covered his chest only, until the lower portion of his body was coated with combat pants. His arms were bandaged with elastic, silver-lined ropes, and he held a large, forearm machete in his hands. Krissy's hair was tangled a mess for a reason, adding two twigs on the top of her radioactive goggles. She had on gloves and an urban sports bra with combat short shorts that were covered in a belt that held multiple bullet casings in them. In her arms was some sort of large gun, showcasing the Capitoles advanced economy and militia. **

**Ight, questions time.**

* * *

 **Favorite tribute/POV, why?  
**

 **Least favorite tribute/POV, why?**

 **Favorite chariot outfit?**

 **Least favorite chariot outfit?**

 **Predictions for any of these tributes or chart, either one would be nice.**

* * *

 **Okay, maybe some outfits are highly unrealistic, but this is just a story. It's fun, 'kay? Well, that's all for now. See y'all next time, and have an amazing morning/day/night/whatever time of day it is for you wherever the hell you are! ^-^  
**


	7. Discipline

**Training Day I:**

* * *

 _No pain, No game,  
Shut up and train._

* * *

 **Aspen Northill, District Twelve**

* * *

''Those are just a few of the basic rules,'' Eliora Defonté announces, giving us a basic rundown on what is and isn't supposed to happen while we're in the training center. ''So, just to recap—''

''Yeah, I think the battle station is probably the best place to visit first.'' Somewhere on the other side of the circle, two tributes are speaking to each other about strategies, interrupting Eliora's sentence.

''I agree. After that, how about the survival station, or the knot-tying one?''

''I'll wait. Are you done?'' Eliora crosses her hands together and turns to the talking teens.

''Survival station. It'll definitely help us out in the long run, but—'' Now cutting them off, she catches the Eight boy in the middle of his speech.

''I'll wait!''

''Well, wait then! Our conversation's not over, we're not done talking! So stop interrupting us!'' The Eight boy takes a huge lunge forward, his fists balled up to the point where his veins look like they're about to pop. ''You keep saying you're gonna wait, but you're not waiting!''

''Preach!'' the Eight girl exclaims.

''Nah, 'cuz that's pissing me off! So shut your impatient-ass up while we speak!'' Darren – I think – yells.

''You know what? I'm done. If you guys have any questions, just come look for me. I'll be examining all of you, and if you'd like a word of advice, I'd say to not just focus on weapons. Everyone wants to become a sword master, but learning how to purify water and identify edible insects and plants can save your life, too. Now, go on.''

When everyone else walks away from the circle, smiling, laughing and giggling at the outburst that just occurred, I slowly approach Eliora. She's pressing her fingers against her temples, muttering, ''I've never been so disrespected in my life... What type of people were these children raised by?''

''Ahem,'' I cough, looking down at the ground. For some reason, I feel as though I can sense her presence peering at me. Looking up, I meet her eyes. The glimmering color of emerald in them, sparkling in the light like a fresh sheen of morning dew grass, is so beautiful. Whenever she turns her head this way or that way, I've noticed, they catch the light and play tricks with anything and everything that screams 'spring.'

''Hello. Is there something that I can help you with? Are you confused, or curious?''

''Neither,'' I respond. ''Actually, I just came here to apologize for the rudeness of those two tributes. I don't know why they acted so foul around you, but you deserve better than that.''

''Do you know those two?''

''No, not really,'' I answer honestly. ''Unless you mean knowing their names by view of the recaps, then yeah, no.''

''So why are you apologizing for their words?''

''Because it was wrong. You should be treated with respect.'' Shrugging, I look around the training center confidently, rubbing my hand on the back of my dark brown hair. ''So, you gotta boyfriend?''

''What?'' she asks, laughing at my unexpected question. ''Why, are you interested?''

''Well, yeah.'' Biting my cheek, I slightly turn my head to the right and say, ''You could definitely grace any billboard or magazine in this city, and it's kind of surprising that you don't already. This is just between you and me, but out of all the Capitolite ladies that I've seen so far, you're the most attractive – you might even be the _only_ attractive one – to me, at least. Whatcha think 'bout me?''

''Oh? Thank you for your compliment, but I'm married. See the ring?'' She raises her right hand up to my face and flashes her Benitoite-studded ring in my face. ''Although, I can appreciate that your hair is a perfection in coffee hues; it's the color of a dark-roasted bean, but your skin's all latte. It's cute. But let's say I wasn't taken. How would you treat me?''

''I'd treat you like a princess. On our first date, I'd take you on a long walk around cracking sidewalks and watery sunshine that struggles past the clouds. We'd make several loops around the nearest Capitol restaurant in this area's block, but we'd be so deep into it that we wouldn't even realize that we haven't reached our destination yet. On our first few circuits, the talks would be kind of shy, the two of us getting acquainted to one another, but after a few more, we'd know more about each other than we did about our own family members. Our fingers would be entwined in a loose grip, and I'd pull you into a kiss that would stop all your anxious thoughts dead in their tracks.''

''...You do realize that I'm too old for you, right?'' she cackles, her sneeze-like laugh only making her more attractive. ''But you're sweet, kid. I gotta give you props.''

''C'mon, now. We'd be the type of couple that would make anyone jeal—''

''Excuse me, ma'am.'' Turning to the right, I notice the older boy from District Three with a question hovering on the tip of his tongue.

''Hey, sorry, man, but whatever you need is gonna have to wait. I'm busy talking to her right now, so can you back up for like, thirty sec—''

''I just need to ask her something real quick, kid. All you're doing is trying to flirt – which is wasting time for everyone else who actually has something _important_ to say – and you're ending up unsuccessful.''

''He's right, kid,'' Eliora admits, giving me a sympathetic look. ''You gotta think logically when situations like this arise.''

 _...She just basically told me to use my common sense, as if I don't have any._

 _They both just spoke down on me like I'm an idiot..._

Inside of me, the frustration builds, and I feel like I'm about to explode. Taking a deep breath, I hold myself still so that I don't shout, vent, or let anything out. Something – I wanna say something. _Anything._

But, instead, I simply walk away, holding in the hurtful words that reside under my tongue.

* * *

 **Natalie Needle, District Seven**

* * *

Reaching the weapons rack, I walk around the deadlier portion of the training center until my eyesight lands on two black knives that stand out from the rest. Speed walking over there, I gracefully move past the spears, clubs, whips and other vicious-looking weapons, reaching out to equip the two blades.

Something soft touches my hand, and I try to pull away, but the grip is firm. I make eye-contact with the boy from Nine – Millet. Quickly, I yank it away and take the knives with me. ''Can you hand me that khopesh, please?''

''Khopesh?''

''The weird-looking sickle to your left,'' he says, pointing at it. Grabbing it, I measure the weapon in my hands, feeling its heaviness and sliding my fingers across its weird curve. After a few seconds, I hand it to him, and he replies with a ''Thanks.''

Turning my head from side-to-side, I look for a good booth to go harness my skills – and there's a world full of dummies behind one of the larger training stations a little bit north of where I'm currently standing at. Making my way over there, I catch the attention of the trainer that sits in his chair, lightly tapping his fingers against the wooden surface of his desk.

''Hey! You interested in some tips and tricks?'' Taking no time at all to think about how I'm gonna respond to him, I instantly begin to nod my head. ''Great. I'm Tessian, and as you can tell, this is the dummy station. In here you'll be able to practice new moves, slice, and even dodge attacks from the robotic samples that we have displayed. Also, if there's anything I can do for you, just... Hey!''

 _Why is he saying 'Hey' again?_ ''Um? You said that already...''

''He was saying it to me, not you,'' a familiar tone of voice resonates from one ear to the other. Glancing slightly to the left, I bite my bottom lip when he stands right next to me. _It was already weird to make contact with him at first, and now he's following me. Why?_ ''Hi, I'm Millet.''

''Nice to meet you, Millet,'' Tessian says, rubbing his hands together. ''Good to see more than one face. Anyway, to put it in simple terms, you can practice on dummies or against dummies here. And if you want to train together, so be it.''

He unlocks the doors of the front entrance and then allows us to enter. Quickly, I make my way over to the center, holding both knives at the hilt and diligently perusing the surrounding area. Mainly to the right are the automatic dummies that hold weapons and roam the sector back and forth, while to the left and center, they're mainly immobile.

A grunt sounds from the right, where Millet is currently slicing his khopesh across a dummy's chest. The deep laceration opens up the opportunity for red foam to exit the solid skin, free-falling onto the floor and covering it in fake stains.

Holding out the knife in front of my hands, I take a jab step with my right foot and spin around the dummy, slicing it in the shoulder and down to the lumbar region of its back.

''Good, girl!'' Tessian shouts out, clapping his hands together. ''Don't forget that the mobility of your hands are just as vital as the mobility of your feet. You were a little slow on the attack, but you have the hang of it!''

Rotating around another dummy, I bury my knife deeply into the side of its stomach, this time being much quicker with my attack. Out of nowhere, though, its arm swings rapidly, catching me off-guard and hitting me square in the chest, knocking a decent amount of air from my system.

''Surprised, huh?'' Tessian asks. ''Yeah, I bet. You gotta remember that your fighting stance remains important, even after you attack – because you never know how your opponent will _react_. It might sound paradoxical, but successful knife combat requires you to be _both_ offensively aggressive and singularly defensive at the same time. Anything less, and you're playing with fire. Now, again!''

This time, I make sure that I'm aware of what's going to happen. From the corner of my eye, I'm able to make out a remote control in Tessian's hand, allowing me to interpret when he's going to command the dummy to attack. But, to make it more realistic, I look away and try to guess – as if it's a tribute.

For the first time, the dummy strikes initially – and not with just its hands, but its entire body. Its head comes aiming for me, and I quickly slide out of the way, avoiding the blow. Getting a clear understanding of what Tessian meant, I stand in a practical stance and lunge over the dummy, ending up on the opposite side of where I was originally, and carve a sickly-sweet smile in its neck.

Jumping back, I manage to avoid another wild attack, leaving me with a grin. ''Well done,'' Tessian congratulates. ''You pick up nicely, which will definitely strengthen your combat skills. I'm impressed.''

''Thank you,'' I pant, trying to cool down my body while placing both hands on the back of my head and exhaling roughly. My skin takes on a glossy shine, and the salty drops of sweat invade my eyes. I feel like I've just had the hardest work out of my life, but it's not until my feet stop moving completely that the air conditioning in this large structure shows me just how wet my clothing has become.

Lifting one eyelid open and keeping the burning one closed, I watch Millet and Tessian speak to each other. Tessian's gesturing all types of different stances and ways of striking, which really puts an impression on me. When he's done speaking with Millet, he gently taps him on the shoulder and rubs his head.

I'm expecting him to quietly walk past me, but instead, he utters, ''You looked really good out there, swinging and stuff. What's your name?''

''Thanks. Not too shabby yourself. And Natalie. Natalie Needle.''

''A pleasure to meet you, Natalie. He looks like he gave you a lot of good advice. I noticed that you got into the action once you hit your third attempt, and after that, you completely took off with it.''

''Same here. What'd he tell ya?''

''He told me that he's aware of me liking to swing one-handed, and that I should practice with my off-hand, too. Since I went for the shoulders a lot, he instructed me to go at it in an above forty-five degree angle. It'll make the blow less likely to bounce back and hit me, especially when embedded in the opponent's skin.''

''That makes sense,'' I state. ''You can tell that he's quite erudite on the subject of combat in general.''

''True.'' A bit of time passes before Millet opens up his mouth again and speaks. ''Say, do you wanna be allies?'' _So that was his game. Noted._ ''I'm not presuming that you'll say yes, but—''

''Sure. I'd love to be allies,'' I decide. ''Since you've been so kind and friendly, I should repay you back within the form of an alliance. Really, we'd be good together. Just... watch what you say around me, and be cautious of the actions you perform.''

''Great. But... what does that all mean, exactly?''

 _Just know that what goes around tends to come around. People change throughout the Games, so don't be surprised if a snake chomps you in the ass._

''Don't worry about it.''

* * *

 **Cherokee Franklin, District Nine**

* * *

The training center's such a spacious area filled with hundreds of different things to do... but, I don't know what I wanna learn first. Weapons don't seem all that appealing – just holding a blade that could take away anyone's life within seconds doesn't sound comforting to me...

Then, a few paces in front of me, I see a little boy – about the age of twelve – on his knees, working at a fire station. _How about over there?_ Smiling to myself, I saunter over to the area quietly, until I'm within five feet of making contact with him.

When he notices my shadow, he stares up at me and then scoffs quite rudely, if I'm being honest. _Nice to meet you, too._ Not letting his disappointed look phase me, I say, ''Hey! I'm Cherokee, what's your name?''

He ignores me, simply focusing on the two sticks in his hand while pondering over how vigorously he's supposed to rub them together. A low snicker erupts from beside the boy, coming out of the trainer's mouth, and I look over at him, feeling slightly embarrassed.

''Don't look at me.'' Shrugging, he turns his head back to the boy. ''If it's too difficult to get the friction in motion and you're lucky enough to obtain a flint in the arena,'' the trainer starts, ''then use that instead. It's quicker, but don't burn yourself. Try again, Sebastian.''

''Sebastian, huh? That's a really nice na—''

''What do you want?'' he interrogates, blinking his eyes with a bit of frustration on his face. ''Can't you see that I'm doing something?''

''I was actually wondering if I could work with you... if you don't mind, that is.''

Not responding once more, he manages to start an ignition of small flames that casually burn, adding some nice warmth to the cool air. The trainer gives Sebastian a nod, takes away the flint and informs, ''Sometimes you get unlucky and don't have a flint or matches. If that's the case, you can always improvise by using quartzite and the steel blade of your pocket knife. You'll also need char, but judging from the rumors that have been going around, I'm sure that the arena will provide you with plenty of that. Anyway, what you wanna do is take a hold of the piece of rock in between your thumb and forefinger, but don't forget to make sure that an edge is hanging about two or three inches. Grasp your knife and use the back of your steel blade to strike against the rock multiple times until sparks fly onto your char. When it begins glowing, fold your cloth into a tinder nest and gently blow on it to start the flame. Like this.''

Done precisely, the trainer creates a normal-sized fire, similar to Sebastian's, except much more impressive. ''That's an aberration from the normal, don't you think?''

''How so?'' the trainer inquires, addressing me while maintaining an eye on Sebastian at the same time.

''Well, in Districts like mine and Sebastian's – I'm assuming – we don't really learn how to start fires. That doesn't mean that I'm not determined to learn, though.''

''Hmm, I understand.'' the trainer mutters.

Staring back down at Sebastian, I watch as he struggles to strike the piece of rock in his hand hard enough. A few sparks come out, but there's an insufficient amount that lands on the char cloth.

Squatting down, I level my body with Sebastian's head. ''Let me help you out with that.''

Scooting away from me while dangerously holding the knife, he says, ''No, I'm fine. You can wait your turn and then do as you want.''

''Really, I insist.'' Even though I continue to offer him a hand, he unceasingly moves away from me. ''Come on, I just wanna _help_.'' But, unfortunately, it seems that I've done more bad than good. Accidentally swiping my hand upwards in an attempt to grab the knife, I bump my knuckles into his arm and guide the weapon across the palm of his left hand.

Sebastian jumps up wildly, screaming at the top of his lungs. His left hand becomes slick with blood, the red fluid loosening his grip on the rock. ''What is wrong with you?!'' All of a sudden, the entire training center goes quiet, and as I frantically look around, every single pair of eyes are gazing at _me_. ''I told you that I didn't need your help, so why do you keep bothering me?! Look at what you did! What's your problem?!''

''I-I-I just... I just w-wanted to a-ask if you w-wanted to be p-p-partners... Here, let me help you ou—''

''Be partners? Are you delusional? If you really thought for two seconds that you could gain allies, you're sorely mistaken. And _help_ me? Haven't you helped enough already? Just get out of my face..!'' There's a tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he's almost about to laugh. The trainer grabs him by the shoulder and takes him away from the station, approaching a cabinet that I believe is full of bandages and all types of other medical materials. But as Sebastian's leaving, I hear him say, ''Partners..? Allies? Help..? What's wrong with her?''

The restrain of impatience in me is lost instantly at this moment, leaving me with neither the emotion of happiness or anxiousness – almost as if the trace of all my feelings have been entirely drained out of my body.

Grumbling to myself a little, I attempt to hold it back, but I just _can't. Let them flood._ My eyes are burning and my chest feels heavy, as if it's filled with lead; I can't even see clearly anymore. All I know is that he's mad, and I messed up once again. _Just like always._ A drop of water falls down onto my hand, and I look up to the ceiling, steadying my breathing until it erupts.

''Forget you, then!'' My shouting rents the air – the once peaceful room becoming polluted with rage. Everyone continues to eye me, yet nobody besides myself tenses up. Some tributes are laughing, others look like they don't even care, and it seems impossible for me to find an empathetic face in the crowd of hundreds. ''I just wanted to find someone to be able to rely on, but you didn't have to be so cruel, you know! Stop being so pessimistic and open up, would you?!''

Turning on my heel, I rush towards the exit of the training center – but, in fact, there's truly no escape, leaving my ire worse, more long-lasting.

Bursting outside, I crash into a wall and my knees buckle, causing my body to collapse onto the floor. A salty fluid drips over my small, cracked lips as my elbows collide with the marble tiles.

Maybe I really was born under Saturn; maybe I really am unlucky. But... I'm not nasty. _Right?_

* * *

 **Malik Sherman, District Eleven**

* * *

There are weights to lift, and currently no-one's using those stations, but I'm not really interested in bench pressing or squatting. Kinda boring when there's nobody else around, but it wouldn't be bad to make an impression on anyone who's watching.

Who knows, maybe the Careers are paying close attention to every individual as I speak.

After scanning the different types of dumbbell sets that are laid out around the room, I eventually decide that I'll save this section for later. Turning away from the sets, I listen intently when I hear, ''Hey, big guy! Are you looking for something?''

Elevated on a higher ground-level, I take in the steel beam and wood-staged plank that's covered by foam padding and a canvas mat. The sides of the wrestling ring are covered with a fabric skirt and have three ring ropes protecting the entrance of it. Leaning against the ropes is a male trainer with protective wrestling gear on, a bit muscular and intimidating. ''Ya wanna wrestle?''

Shrugging, I say, ''It wouldn't hurt to try.''

Nodding his head, he doesn't seem skeptical about the challenge that he proposed at all. Granted, I'm nothing special, especially not compared to him, but we're about the same height, standing a six feet tall – although, he's definitely bulkier than I am. Unlocking the swinging wooden doors of the stage's entrance, he gestures for me to enter, before closing it.

When we're both inside the ring, he cracks his neck, shoulders, back, and knuckles, showing that he's prepared for a fight. ''You not gonna stretch?'' he asks.

''Nope. Never really needed to.''

''Confidence is good,'' he states, breathing softly, ''I like that in tributes. Don't let that spirit break. _Ever._ '' Smiling, I walk around the ring, testing the flexibility of the ropes before doing anything ridiculous. ''A few ground rules before we start. One: there are no rules. In the Hunger Games, you won't be restricted to any set of direct orders, so do what you must in order to gain the upper advantage. Ready?''

''Yeah, ready.''

''Whoa,'' he says unexpectedly, smiling a little. ''What's with the sudden shift to a hardened expression? It's like something flashed beneath the surface of your skin. Do I need to investigate?''

''Nah, I just need to be serious in situations like this. I'm gonna act like this is a real fight in the Games, so I shouldn't be giddy and laughing, you know?''

''All right, guy. Go!''

Immediately, the trainer charges at me, grabbing me by my shoulders and tossing me to the ground. The mat is surprisingly slippery, which makes it difficult for me to catch my footing, but I'm able to avoid his leap and roll out of the way.

He bounces back up quickly, grunting as he takes a handful of my clothing, and tries to wrestle me to the ground and pin me. As I continue to resist, he releases a hand-hold and uses his advantage to jab me in the ribs. Doubling over, I take two hits to the face, but instead of groaning and shouting out in pain, I glare up at him.

''Wow, you ate those,'' he says, sounding unsure. In that frozen second between him and I, I wrap my arms around his waist, my expression unreadable; no fear, no invitational smirk. His agile movement is far too slow to stop me from my assault. My pair of hands seize him in a lock, making him struggle and gurgle in my tight hold.

Jumping up, he does a somersault over my shoulders and lands behind me, but I carry him with the escape and force him to stagger backward into the ring post. Dropping abruptly, I shake my grip off of him and butt my head into his stomach. As the cry of pain escapes his lips, I haul him over my shoulders, turn around, and dive forward as I crash my weight onto his, our bodies slamming into the rough mattress.

Standing up rapidly, I press both of my boots against his wrists, twisting them as I look down at him. ''All right, all right, you win.'' Walking off, I aid him in standing up and chuckle. ''You're pretty good, boy. What's your name?''

''Malik Sherman,'' I answer, grinning from ear-to-ear. Salty droplets flow down my face like soft summer rain, dripping onto the mat as I stand to regain my breath. Down my back is a dark stripe amid the dusty color of my sleeved top, a spreading map of perspiration.

''Well, you're definitely a contender, Malik. A strong body used to be a sign of either excessive leisure time or a non-stop athlete, but who else has time to do things like that? Now, in the Games, it's a necessity, and you have it. If you can't run, you're dead. If you can't jump a low level wall without reducing speed, you're dead. If you can't use a weapon and fight with it... well, you get the idea. But you, you have it all. In a little bit, come back to me, kid – I wanna work with your strength some more.''

''Thank you,'' I breathe raggedly, exiting the ring and walking to the front gate. There, behind the door, stands a boy who looks like he's around my age with a large Six on his shoulder. ''What's up?''

Smiling kindly, he opens up his mouth and says, ''Didn't expect anything less from you. You were really good in there.''

Raising an eyebrow, I chuckle and joke, ''Thanks. Not really sure what to make of that, but hopefully it's good in meaning?''

''Yeah, it's well-meant. I was just saying that someone as strong as you would have no trouble with wrestling a trainer. It's almost insane how easy you made that look. By the way, I'm Lachlan.''

''I'm Malik. And I guess so. After spending seventeen years of my life working in District Eleven, it's natural that I've picked up on a few strengths. The experience catches up to you, I guess.''

''That sucks and doesn't suck at the same time. I've heard some awful things about your District, and life sounds pretty rough there.'' Rubbing the back of his hand briefly against his lips, he utters, ''I like that you're down-to-earth, though. Like, you don't take offense to my words and that's relieving – especially after witnessing what just happened a few minutes ago.''

I shrug, bringing my shirt up to the top of my face and wiping the sweat from my eyes. ''Don't you think it'd be cool if you and me allied? It might seem unlikely, but it'd be pretty interesting.''

''Are you inviting me to an alliance?'' I ask, caught off-guard. He nods his head. ''Direct. I like it. But... let me think about it. If you can last in the ring against me and give me a good fight, I'll join you.''

''Deal! Don't hold back at all, okay?'' he orders.

''Bet.''

* * *

 **Pavel Elsbeth, District Thirteen**

* * *

The cafeteria's a cacophony of loud chatter, each table a cosseted huddle of people raising their voices to be heard above the din. The food's secondary to the information that's being exchanged here, but there are so many people that could be potential allies.

Unoccupied tables are laden with delicacies that line the walls. A lot of these foods I've never even seen before in my life – even things I've never dreamed of lie in wait. Whole roasted cows and pigs and goats still turn on spits, huge platters of fowl stuffed with savory fruits and nuts. Even ocean creatures are dazzled in sauces and begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, and even waterfalls of this thing that all the Peacekeepers are drinking called wine.

''Do you ever wonder if the Capitol trains their Peacekeepers to be the perfect soldiers?'' I whisper to Krissy, leaning down just a little bit. ''Honestly, I think I'd be perfect for a Peacekeeper job. Seriously, just being told what to do and not having to worry about grades or making a living for myself or any of that junk. The hard work wouldn't be for no reason, you know?''

The expression on her face reads nothing but confusion. ''What are you talking about? I'm sure that not every Peacekeeper is exactly the same soldier. Some might even be rebellious.''

''C'mon, think about it. Every single one that we've seen has been the same patriotic, generic, law-enforcing civilian. Doesn't that make you wond—''

''Shut up, Pavel,'' Krissy orders, grabbing my hand and dragging me to an empty table. ''Let's eat. I think this is all just getting into your head.''

 _I love it when you tell me what to do,_ I almost say, but rather I hold my tongue and follow orders. _If only my enter life could be surrounded around that type of demeanor. It'd be so much easier._

As Krissy attempts to wrap her hands around a meaty, sizzle-crisped, sloppy burger with chin-dripping juices on the inside, I search the room and spot a girl playing with her food. She looks so young, so adorable, so innocent – she doesn't even deserve to be here.

''I'll be right back, Krissy.'' Pushing myself up, I leave my fries in their cardboard packaging, allowing them to soak in the nasty grease.

''Where are you going?''

Speed walking forward, I smoothly seat myself across from the District Ten girl, staring her in the eyes. ''You look lonely. Are you okay? If you need some company, my ally and I wouldn't mind having you—''

''Get away from me!'' she raises her voice, drawing some attention.

''Look, I'm just trying to offer you an alliance. You shouldn't be in this mess in the first place, so—''

''Leave me alone, boy! Guys are dirty and nasty and gross!'' she spits, shouting loudly now. ''I don't want you to be here, only girls are allowed! Get away from me or else I'm gonna tell!''

Sighing, I do as she says without hesitation. Despite how bad I want to help and protect her, I'll acquiesce to her demands.

When I return to Krissy, she questions, ''Why'd you go bother that little girl? She yelled at you not once, but _twice_ , and everyone was staring. You looked like a predator.''

Sitting back down, I return to my fries and put some tomato sauce on them. ''I asked her if she wanted to join our alliance.''

''What?''

Krissy squares her shoulders and stands up promptly, chiding her disapproval. ''Why would you want a girl like that in our alliance? Did you not see how she and her district partner were acting with one another? They're from the same District and didn't get along, and neither of them are first in the race for sponsors. Expecting any other response is just foolish. Why screw with our chances for someone so useless?''

''Come on, don't be like that.'' Frowning, I incline my head and state, ''She's a small girl with apparently no allies. Is it bad that I took pity on her? She's just so innocent; she even speaks like a child!''

Taking authority, Krissy wipes the grease off of her fingers with a napkin and says, ''Yes! It's like you're throwing all of your sense of judgment out the window. We don't need a little girl in our alliance, we need someone who's ready and willing to go the extra mile to help us survive as long as we—''

Krissy's face contorts into a look of disgust, and a smack as loud as a clap jumps into the air. Turning around, she accuses, ''Did you just slap my ass?!''

Confused, I look off to the right a little bit and see the Ten boy, smiling deviously and denying Krissy's claims. ''What are you talking about? I'd never do such a thing.''

''You clearly would since you're the only person behind me. No-one else is anywhere near. If you're gonna try something so repugnant, make sure that you have a believable excuse.'' Now turning to me, she scoffs, asking, ''Did you see that?''

''Calm down...'' the boy chuckles nervously. ''It was just a harmless prank, don't take it so seriously. Damn, everyone wants to be butt-hurt all of a sudden.''

Walking around the table and grabbing the boy's hand, I push him behind me, defending him. ''Chill. He's just a little boy. Plus, you know how us guys are – sometimes we fall to our impulsive wants, especially when we're as young as he is. The hormones start kicking in around that time, so you can't really blame him. Maybe he didn't even have sexual intentions and just did it because he could. There's a chance that it was all for fun, nothing more.''

Clutching on to my wrist with a skintight grab, she pulls me away from the table. ''Are you serious right now? This is what I was talking about – you know damn well if that was someone our age, you'd think differently.''

''But he's only a kid, he doesn't need to be punished for somethi—''

''Are you guys talking about me?'' The boy stands in between the both of us, pushing his head through the space separating our bodies from touching.

'' _Yeah_ , we _are_. Why don't you go wait over there and mind your own business?'' With a helpful push, she shoves him away.

''We gotta protect the kid!'' I insist. Her and I go back-and-forth, having an innocent banter. Eventually I begin to plead, giving her the puppy dog eyes. ''Please..? Let's just assist him in getting on his feet, and then after that we can put ourselves as the main priority. Is that fair?''

Grunting, she gives in and discouragingly deadpans. ''Fine. But you're taking care of whoever you recruit, _not_ me.''

''That's fine by me!'' Rotating to my left, I smile triumphantly at Mackenzie, earning a disingenuous observation from him.

Perfect. A blameless, malleable ally. Could I ask for more?

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! Finally, we're done with this batch of tributes. I'm pretty happy to have gotten through this fairly quickly. Everyone was fun to write for, and once again, I appreciate you guys for submitting. To be honest, I don't even know what to say. This is one of the only free weekends that I've actually had all year, being able to finish everything, so it's kinda weird lmao. Usually I have a lot to say whenever I'm packed, but here it's kinda empty. Might just chill for the rest of the night with moms, but anyway, I hope y'all are doing well. Oh, and the alliances that I have planned, some of you might be pretty surprised when you see who's with who. Some will definitely be obvious, but I don't think anyone expected Pavel, Krissy and Mackenzie, or even Lachlan and Malik. It'll all round up in the end, so if you're skeptical, just trust ya boy.  
**

 **Honestly, I'm just so impatient to get to the Games already. The pre-game activities are mad fun to write until you get to the interview chapter, and I'm dreading that. Once again, I'll have one chapter with six POVs, and I'm debating whether it should be interviews or the third training day, but I think I'll do third training day since I'm not boutta stress over some interviews. Also, there's a poll on my page, so you guys should totally go over there and vote for your top 5 favorite tributes in this story. Truthfully, I know some authors don't like when people are biased and vote for their own tribute(s), but I don't care. Dude, go at it. I don't even care if you get your friends to vote. Voting won't change shit; it never has for me, and it never will. I'm just curious on who y'all like. Also, please vote for *5* tributes. Not just yours, but your *5* favorite. Idk why, but I'm not a fan of checking my votes and seeing that, oh, this tribute has one vote and everyone else has zero in the first few minutes. Anyway, yuh, questions.**

* * *

 **Favorite tribute? In this chapter and overall.  
**

 **Least favorite tribute? In this chapter and overall.**

 **Predictions?**

 **You attempt to help a tribute and they completely call you out in front of every single person in the training center. How are you feeling? Do you plot to kill them and get revenge, do you shrug it off and not care 'cuz you know your worth and don't gaf whether or not some kid wants to talk you down, or what?**

 **Lastly, I want y'all to predict the arena solely off of some hints that I've placed in the chapter quotes, sentences that stood out, or anything that seemed strange in this story. If I've told you what the arena is, shut the fuck up. This isn't for ya. ;)**

* * *

 **Anyway, yeah, that's it for now! And summer's about two and a half weeks away. I've got one more AICE Exam on Thursday, and after that it's all the easy honors classes at the end of the year. Basically, I've only got three more exams after this one, but none of those are gonna make me hold back my fun time because it's simple shit. Except for Chemistry. I gave up on that subject when I got a B the second quarter and now I don't care because I hate dimensional analysis and stoichiometry or however you spell it. Not sure whether or not the alerts are still down, but I've gotten some notifications and haven't gotten some notifications, so I guess it's on and off? If you're reading this, you a real one. Have a wonderful day/night/evening/morning/whatever time it wherever the hell y'all are at! Hope you're all having a happy Mother's Day with your moms, guardians, or whoever is a mother-figure to y'all. Treat 'em right and show them how much they matter to you and how much you love them! See y'all next time! ^-^  
**


	8. Inhibition

**Training Day II:**

* * *

 _Too ambitious and too damn timid,  
And too thrilled that the glass was half filled to wonder what was in it._

* * *

 **Millet Arrowroot, District Nine**

* * *

Slowly and reluctantly, I uncover the heavy blanket from my face. Blinking, I close my eyes, reopen them, and blink again. Streaks of sunlight penetrate the window and blind me. Sitting up, I drag my feet off of the bed, rub my knuckles against my eyes, and stretch my arms above my head and yawn.

My legs dangle over the off-white polyester carpet, swinging there, before I hop off and head to the bathroom. Right when I reach the door, I hear the pouring of liquid, which confuses me at first, but then I step through the entrance, a little bit annoyed.

''Oh, shit.'' Whipping his head around, Demetri stares at me as he uses the bathroom in _my_ room.

''Don't you have a bathroom of your own?'' I ask, leaning against a wall. ''Like, on the other side of the penthouse?''

''Lilac's currently using it, and, you see, I wasn't about to use Cherokee's, so hopefully you understand.'' Looking away, I wait for him to finish up, wash his hands, and get out. Right as he steps outside, he says, ''Breakfast in ten. Also, we've got a lot to talk about.''

''Yeah, yeah.'' Gesturing my hands forward, I usher for Demetri to leave. After the weird encounter, I allow the robotic arms of the Capitol-style bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth for me. Following breakfast, I'll take a long, relaxing, icy cold shower to get my mind off of things and then head down to training. _But why's she using his?_

Once I leave my room and enter the lobby, I wince as the twilight melts away, the majestic, red-orange sunrise glow seeping over the horizon as if the light itself is being poured from a molten sun. Powerful rays flood over the landscape, lighting every blade of grass all the way down below, where the pedestrians walk and stand outside of the hotel, shining from each leaf.

''Good morning, sweethearts!'' Lilac cheers, clapping her hands together. Behind me, Cherokee walks toward the dining table tiredly. Sauntering forward as well, I take a seat across from Lilac and cover my mouth with my hands.

In front of me, steam rises from a cylinder, ceramic white cup. Curious, I ask, ''What is this?''

''It's coffee,'' Lilac answers, taking a sip. ''You've never had it before, have you? Well, I definitely recommend it if you're tired – it'll wake you right up and get you ready for the day.''

''Bull. It forces you to stay up, more like it,'' Demetri mutters.

''No, I haven't. Actually, I've always wanted to try hot coffee, but I never knew what it was. My mother would always give me hot chocolate when I was younger, but I'd heard about coffee a few times.'' Looking down at the cup, I bring it up to my mouth and take a big gulp. A fleeting expression emerges on my face, showing malcontent. Placing down the cup with tight, pursed lips, I choke out, ''Sour overload.''

It's so putrid, and every single one of my taste buds are telling me to drain every last drop of the cup and to drench my face in a water fountain or something.

''I knew he wouldn't like it,'' Demetri says, sounding confident for no reason. A light smirk is plastered on his face, which makes me shrug.

''Glad I got orange juice.'' It seems as though I'm the only one who heard Cherokee say anything. Sparing her a glance, I watch as she looks down at her drink and takes a small sip.

''Anyway, I heard that you gained an ally,'' Lilac starts, standing up and leaning across to table to look me in my eyes. ''Wanna tell me about her?''

''How do you know that it's a her?'' I question. ''You've been gossiping with the other Victors, eh?''

''We all gossip,'' Demetri admits. ''Now, go on.''

''Um, yeah. I allied with Natalie from Seven,'' I acknowledge, speaking in a mellow tone. ''I know what you're gonna ask, and yeah, I think she's pretty trustworthy. We had a nice conversation yesterday, but at the end of the day, she said something cryptic and then told me not to worry about it. I don't know what it was about, but I'm gonna egg it on.''

''C'mon, kid, at least sound excited! You speak so maturely when describing her, and it's like you don't care. There's no happiness in your voice! Lighten up and show some emotion! Don't be so serious, and have a little bit of fun while you can...'' Lilac pleads.

Standing up and objecting, Demetri states, ''Actually, it's respectable that he isn't overexcited about _one_ ally. I mean, if he went around bragging about it or something, he'd look like an idiot. It's better this way, _and_ it makes him appear more prepared.''

After our calm chat, we patiently sit down and wait for the Avox or whoever else they've sent up here to bring us our meal. A fork clangs on the floor, and I instantly know who dropped it. Staring at Cherokee through my peripheral vision, I'm about to say something to cheer her up as I notice the puffing of her lips, but Lilac beats me to it.

Demetri eyes me as a heavy silence settles over us, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. Unsettled eyes glance around in the silence, no-one talking vehemently anymore.

''Oh, Cherokee, honey, did you meet anyone yesterday?'' Lilac tries. ''Tell us about your adventure. I bet you had an enjoyable time.''

''...Don't act like you don't already know,'' she frowns, covering her face. ''You guys said it yourselves: all Victors gossip, so surely somebody told you about my embarrassing moment.''

 _Ding!_

The elevator rings, and that signals that our breakfast has arrived. The wheels of the rolling table squeak over their movement of the polished floor. Suddenly, I feel something splash against my ankles, and when I whip my head around, I see an enormous platter of food come flying down. Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes; a tureen of fruits that were sitting on ice even come down along with a basket of rolls that would keep my sister and I going for a week back in Nine. An elegant glass of citrus juice cracks once it makes abrupt contact with the ground, completely drenching the lower portion of my legs.

When I incline my head and look the Avox in his eyes, I realize exactly why they dropped the plates. Brick by brick, my walls come tumbling down, and the tears in my eyes turn this sunny day into a rainy one filled with whirlwinds of gray. ''...Dad?''

* * *

 **Eloise Allegro, District Eight**

* * *

'''Scuse me real quick, I'ma go get some water,'' Darren grunts, picking himself up and walking away from the survival station. ''I'll be back in a bit.''

''All right, cool.'' Facing the bugs and plants that are displayed on the table, I survey each one and read the signs that state what type they are, what effect they have on the body if consumed, and where they're usually located.

Snapping her fingers, the trainer suggests, ''It'd be better if you looked up here and let me explain the basics of survival before we indulge in the knowledge of specific species, don't you think?''

''Oh, sorry. Was just prepared to get my brain juices flowing, you know? Tackling on the more advanced things is always exciting.''

''Yeah? I'm glad you feel that way, then. You know why? Because more important than any other skill, your attitude determines how successful you are in a survival situation. That's the first thing you should focus on; in the end, how you feel about a conflicting circumstance can determine whether you live or die.''

Nodding my head, I listen intently and give her all of my attention. ''Now, when you're stuck in a situation, say, without food, water, or basic needs, just remember The Rule of Threes: a human can survive for three minutes without air, three hours without a regulated body temperature – or shelter – three days without water, and three weeks without food.''

''Okay, I got ya.''

''Surviving a difficult wilderness situation also requires meeting many challenges while avoiding panic,'' she stresses, making a symbol with her hands to show that she's serious. ''You must remember to always use a 'SPEAR'.''

''A spear? Like, the weapon?''

''No. 'SPEAR' stands for: Stop, Plan, Execute, Asses and Re-evaluate. By systematically assessing, planning, and executing your basic skills, you'll help keep your mind and body actively engaged in addressing your problems. This will greatly aid in avoiding panic and other negative states of mind. By upholding an upright attitude, your chances of survival are greatly improved already!''

''Oh, I understand. And what about shelter? Are there specific considerations for choosing where I should set up camp for the night and decide to rest?''

''It's as if you read my mind,'' she exults. ''But yes, actually. Many people – and tributes from past Games – who are forced into harsh climates often get in trouble because of direct exposure to the elements. Most people in these predicaments die of hypothermia, which can easily be avoided. Building your own shelter is of paramount importance, especially if you want to prevent or minimize heat and water loss. You want to consider your location – are you away from hazards and near materials? Insulation is another thing to contemplate – is it raining, is the wind too harsh, is the air polluted? Do you get what I'm saying?''

''Yeah. For sure.''

''Good. Really, there are many types of shelters to inhabit in,'' she informs, ''such as caves, hollow stumps and logs, as well as building things like a debris hut, lean-to, debris tipi, scout pits or snow shelters. Of the ones I've just listed, the debris hut is often the most practical to construct in any environment. If you want, I can show you how to create one.''

 _Where's Darren? He should've been back by now._ ''Definitely. Please.'' I've gotta admit, with Darren on my mind, my full attention isn't placed on her. Rotating my head slightly, I look to the front of the training center, my lips slightly quivering as I notice the District One girl approaching him, touching his shoulder and smiling. She says something and begins to laugh...

The stupid girl is giggling repeatedly, so child-like..! Darren furrows his eyebrows, clearly uninterested, but his muscles shake a bit. I hold my breath behind my pursed lips to steel myself against the gales of laughter coming from One. Of course, I know exactly what happened – she told a lame joke, and now she's trying to bond over it with him, but...

Pushing myself up, I grumble, ''Actually, not quite yet. I'll be right back.'' Now rushing towards where Darren's located, I grab him by his hand, clutching it tightly and taking both of them by surprise. ''Um, is there a reason as to why you're speaking to Darren?''

''W-Well, I was actually gonna ask him if he wanted to join the Careers.'' My heart almost skips a beat. ''See, we're scouting to see if anyone's worthy of joining, and I think that Darren could help us o—''

''Am I invited, too?'' I blurt out.

''Um, I—''

''If not, then get the hell away from him! I don't know who you think you are, but he's not interested in your offer. You Careers disgust him anyway, so just leave before things turn bad. Because, I swear to God, if we have a problem, I'm gonna smack the shit out of you until your face turns a stained shade of red!'' _She doesn't even pose a threat to your alliance. Why are you doing this?_

''Why are you so threatening? I just... I didn't come here to start any trouble, I—''

''Yeah? Well, you did! And mark my words, if I see you in the arena, I'm gonna beat the fuck outta you!'' I warn, serious with my threats. ''Go back to your little army of killers and stay where you belong. You've got no business with Darren. None at all, you hear?! I don't care what the rules are, if I see you coming near him again, you and me are throwing hands.''

My hands are frailty and sweaty, intertwined with Darren's fingers, shaking gently as we walk away. They're ashen where the sunlight catches them, not ghostly, just subdued and grayish from nervousness. Darren's hands always reassure me that my world will be safe and that I won't just wither away to something a little bit more than skin and bone.

''Why'd you come off so aggressive like that?'' he wonders.

 _Yeah, why did you?_ ''I just can't stand Careers,'' I lie, attempting to smile. _That's not it. You were scared, jealous, that she would take him away from you and that you'd never see him again. Your friend, gone, snatched away just like that. How pathetic of you to act that way because of your insecurities._

I wanna stop it... but, I can't. _I'm sorry_ , I want to apologize, but it'd have to be forced outta me. Seeing all that, I realize just how much I really love Darren. Having him by my side, helping me... I'd follow him into Hell if it meant that I could keep such a good friend. Nothing would allow me to let our relationship break, no matter how insurmountable the odds are. But that just proves how vulnerable I really am.

Seeing him replace me with someone better than me – prettier than me, smarter than me – like One... _I wouldn't be able to handle it._

* * *

 **Chayona Watt, District Three**

* * *

For the first time in my life, I find myself alone. _Truly_ alone. A huddled heap of slightly-ripped black jeans, a t-shirt with a Three on the shoulder, and laced-up black boots, I sit alone, utterly satisfied in the darkness of this far-out portion of the training center.

My sisters aren't around to make fun of me, my dad's not here to yell at me for making a mistake, and, as usual, no-one's here to soothe me of my insecurities and fears. I've come here purposefully to escape everyone and everything. Like I anticipated, it's not so bad.

Staring down at the fishing pole and all of the other items that I borrowed from previous booths that were unoccupied, I inspect the properties of the item, taking in the reel seat, the handle, the hook keeper, and everything else that's important to the puzzle. _Can I really construct what I've been planning for some time now?_

''No, of course not,'' I sigh, feeling disappointed in myself. ''My sisters were right, I'm nothing special. But, I guess it wouldn't hurt to try.''

Dismantling the fishing pole and removing its pieces, I do my best to remember the blueprints that I had for a stun rod-baton. Not everything comes back to my memory, but I can improvise. If it weren't for the bead necklace that I have in my hands, a blueprint would be sitting on this table.

Starting out, I take a piece of tin foil about the same length as the diameter of blank of the fishing pole and wrap it around, making sure to also cut a piece that's the same length of the inside diameter, half an inch shorter than the previous one. Rolling up the tin foil carefully, I insert the reel seat into a plastic tube and tape it together.

Ripping another piece of tin foil with my mouth, I move my hands around the table in search of the ping pong ball that I snatched. Once my fingers brush against it, I remove the bolts that I kept in pockets and insert them into the ball, keeping them about half an inch apart.

Cutting two pieces of wire and attaching them each to the bolt, I glue the ball and screws to a piece of the cardboard foam that I collected. I measure it to make sure that the foam is the same size in length and width as the blank is, having to do a little bit of cutting and destroying to make certain that the baton won't have any disproportional features.

With a little bit more work, I manage to secure the first wire to the foil on the inside of the blank, and the other wire to the foil on the outside, creating two tiny holes in the cardboard and plugging them like they're electrical inputs. Next, I glue the ping pong ball to the blank so that the inner wire fits inside, keeping the bolts pointing out vertically.

It was impossible for me to find a bottle cap, so I had to resort to cutting out a circular item with a piece of broken, flexible wood. Overall, it's fairly easy to keep it in place, but the real challenge is whether or not it'll go as planned – and will it work?

 _They always told you that whatever you amounted to wouldn't be anything compared to what they would. Your accomplishments – which you have very few of – are insufficient. Daddy's not proud of you, and if anything, he won't ever be because you'll never see him again._

My eyes shift to the side, becoming slightly glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As I blink, they drip from my eyelids and slide down my cheeks. I bite my lip tightly in an attempt to hide any sound that wants to escape from my mouth, prompting my heart to sink lower than it already has.

My lower lip quivers as words slowly make their way out of my mouth. ''Maybe they're...'' I begin, yet what follows is engulfed in my tremors. Ignoring the pain on the inside, I force the tears to stop and search for a wall plug. In the deepest corners, I find one. Slowly approaching it, I stick the two bolts of the ping pong ball into the two round, parallel prongs.

Once I remove it, the static electricity flows in an instance, drawing a little bit of light in this dark portion of the room. Cautiously, I place the device on my fingertip and giggle slightly as the harmless voltage tickles me.

''Helloooo!'' Out of nowhere, a feminine voice rings out in my ears, and an arm is slung across my shoulders, pulling me into whoever it is that's beside me. Slightly turning my head to the left, I stare at the District Five girl for what seems like hours until my gaze finally drops, my voice quieter now, less sure.

''O-Oh... H-Hi...'' A gentle flush of pink rises in my cheeks, making me look susceptible. I hold my breath as she leans up on the tips of her toes and tentatively slants against me. My head goes hazy; my body becomes stagnant at the unfamiliar sensation of being so close to someone else. _After all, you've always been the avoidable one._

''Why are you being so shy?'' she questions, almost as if she's suspicious of something she shouldn't be involved with. ''You know that you can be open and express yourself, right? In fact, it seems as though you already have.''

As she eyes my stun-baton, I stutter out, ''M-M-Many p-people i-in my D-District made f-fun of me, s-so I-I guess i-it's b-become a n-natural t-thing.''

''It's also made you reserved, huh? You stutter because of it, too, am I right?'' Catching on quickly, she adds, ''Well, shame on whoever that's picked on you in the past. Obviously they're ignorant, because they don't know a genius when they see on. By the looks of that stun-rod, people really seem to be a bad judge of character – and in a District full of nerds, too? How shameful. Do you mind if I inspect it?''

Laughing to myself a little bit, I say, ''Y-Yeah. I mean, n-no. G-G-Go a-ahead..!''

When she takes hold of the weapon, she asks, ''How many voltages are in this bad thing? Two hundred, four hundred? _Two thousand?_ ''

''Actually, n-none,'' I answer shyly, feeling as though she'll be ashamed of me, too. Slowly, she brings the rod up to her eye-level, and before anything can happen, I say, quite loudly, ''Don't r-rip the t-tin foil or e-else it'll cause a loss of—!''

''Corona, or static charge?'' she finishes my sentence for me, her smile filled with joy. Lightly, my lips tug upward, putting me in a state of happiness. ''Why didn't you add any amount of voltages on this baby anyway?''

''W-Well, I f-figured that t-the t-trainers wouldn't be f-fond of a w-weapon that's c-capable of electrocuting s-s-someone just l-lying a-around and being a-accessible l-like t-that. If it fell into the w-w-wrong hands, who knows w-what c-could happen?''

Giggling, the girl says, ''You're honestly adorable. Just know that no matter what anyone says, I like you for who you are. That might not mean much coming from someone you don't even know, but if it makes your day any bit brighter, then I'm happy. By the way, I'm Imogen. You are?''

My body no longer feels like a cage, but instead, more like an unlocked door – and the key to it is in Imogen. ''C-Chayona. I-I'm C-C-Chay— Ch-Chayona...'' With a beaming smile, she takes the pain away and makes it bearable to be around others, being seen for who I am. No matter how long I've known her for, I just feel that she carries a charm of being firm, reassuring, and kind.

And for some reason, I feel as if I'm a bird in the sky, able to sing once more.

* * *

 **Sebastian Hammond, District Five**

* * *

Descending carefully from the rock wall, I land softly on my two feet and untie the Prusik knot from the rope and safety harness. It took me a bit of time to understand how to tie it _and_ use it to climb, but I've got the hang of it now.

''Good job, Sebastian.'' The male trainer takes the knot from my hands and queries, ''Are you sticking around for more, or are you going to head out to another station?''

''No, I think I'm just gonna go walk around for a bit. Today's been a long day,'' I say.

''All right, that's digestible.'' He nods his head enthusiastically, approving of my decision. ''It's best that you get some time to yourself. After all that you've learned today, I think that it's in order.''

Stepping away from the rope course station, I scrutinize the training center, observing what's going on in multiple regions. Currently, two Careers are chilling and talking to one another, three of them are walking around in search of something, and the last one is training. Who is who, I don't know.

The other tributes are all either making friends and communicating with one another, or they're at densely populated booths. There are some loners, but none of them are doing anything that makes them look distinct. But, catching my attention, I spot the District Thirteen boy at some sort of touch screen, sorting through various questions and answers – I suppose that it's set up as a memory game.

Approaching the struggling boy, I pay attention studiously.

The trainer shakes her head unsympathetically. ''When a tribute is out in the arena hunting, he or she must always: A. Carry a survival kit at all times, even if only out for a short amount of hours. B. Carry only their weapon and prepare for a hunt. C. Leave all of their valuable items behind. Or D. Jump at the chance to kill whatever they find.''

 _The first one, obviously._ ''C. Leave all of their valuable items behind, right?'' he answers confidently, but more in a question-like tone. ''Because if you run into another tribute and you die, then they collect all of your items!''

''No. That's wrong, wrong, wrong! Leaving your valuable items behind will ensure of your death, especially if you can't protect yourself!'' she spits, attempting to maintain her composure. ''Say you get lost after running away from something. How do you know your way back? The correct answer was A. If you carry your survival kit at all times and you're injured, you can patch yourself up, and be able to protect yourself in dire situations.''

''Fine...'' he moans, seemingly giving up. ''Next question.''

''If you're in a group of more than two people and are attacked by mutts, you should: A. Run away and split up from your pack. B. Attack the mutts to show your dominance. C. Stare them down. Or D. Group together and huddle up so that you appear larger.''

''A! Running away gives you a boosted chance of survival!''

''Wrong. Making the first move and abruptly taking off like that will more than likely attract the mutts to you, prompting them to target you first and rip you up until they turn their attention back to the others.'' Rolling her eyes in obvious agitation, she sasses, saying, ''Are we done now?''

''One more time, please. I can do it, I—''

''How many times have you told yourself that?'' I step in, barging my nose into his business. ''One more. Just one more.'' Through the corner of my eye, I catch the trainer smiling at me, a bit humorously. ''The last two answers that you've chosen back-to-back have been wrong, and from my earlier observations, it seems that you've actually gotten quite a few incorrect. The answers were obvious, too. It's ridiculous that you've failed so badly.''

''Shut up, you don't even know—''

''I know that it's pointless and stupid of you to continue. You're just stressing yourself out, and yeah, it's pretty entertaining, but your determination won't lead to anything. Don't you realize that it's fruitless? Judging by your character, anything that you come up with will be futile.''

''Fine, you do it, then!'' he commands. His face contorts with a venomous outburst, brewing anger like tea in a pot. Instead of calming down and relaxing, he kicks at the touch pad for good measure, only satisfied by being able to let it all out. ''You come up with better answers and I'll watch!''

Shaking my head, I deny his request. ''No, I just wanted to let you know that what you're doing is to no avail. You can't even get _one_ answer correct. Maybe this isn't your thing.''

From my view of him, it seems as if he's become invisible to himself, that he can't bear to hear my words. I've crossed some invisible line, offended his sensibilities. It's idle of him to say anything or do anything now. My words bounce off as good as hard rain, so it isn't surprising to see the rage in his eyes, his anger booming.

His shout is violent in the air, becoming a way to take the anger from his miserable attempts and transferring the tension to me. He doesn't just raise his voice, but his muscles tense and he goes right in close for maximum impact. ''Maybe you shouldn't be sticking your nose in other peoples' business when you have no right to interfere in what they're doing!'' Whipping his head around, it seems as if he's about to curse me out, but then he stops. ''You're so damn meddlesome! It's like I wanna—!''

I stand there slightly confused, my brows creasing and my face tense. His tone suddenly becomes casual and light as he says, ''I'm so sorry!'' _It's like he's retracing his steps._ ''You're right, maybe I've been blindsided. Listen, you're a smart kid, and you obviously know what you're talking about. Do you, by any means, wanna join my alliance?''

There's something puzzling about this guy's gait and way of flipping his attitude in mere seconds, enough to make me suspicious. It seems that something's weighing him down on one side and his muscles are struggling to compensate for his lack of balance. Backing up, I hold my hands in the air and choke out, ''Why? Are you switching how you act so that you have an easier chance at killing me?''

''No, that's not it at all!'' he frets. ''I actually _want_ to protect you. Kids like you don't deserve to even be here, and it makes me upset to see that you have to face death so early. Trust me, please.''

''Yeah, right.''

''I'm serious. Think about it; if you go around talking like that to the other tributes, who knows how they'll react? If I'm being honest, they won't be too appreciative of your invasive behavior. I'm willing to forgive you for your rudeness, but only in return for your loyalty. You don't even have to give anything back – I just wanna make sure that you're safe.''

Thinking critically, I decide that this might be my only opportunity at reaching something better. In life, second chances are rare. _Take advantage of this while you can. He could help you get far enough to win._ ''Fine.''

He becomes so excited when I accept his offer, but I'm not making any promises to him. If things turn bad – _when things turn bad –_ I'm out.

* * *

 **Gideon Alvaro, District Three**

* * *

Gripping the spear tighter, I lunge forward, taking a large step and using both of my hands to caress the shaft, stabbing the blade into a dummy's abdomen. In my mind, I can imagine a cannon sounding, and it makes me cringe in fear.

Behind me, the boy from One simply stands there, watching me – and it's been about five minutes now. Finally, when I take a short break, he approaches me fully and asks, ''You find enjoyment in solitude and escapism, too?''

Guarding myself, I shrug my shoulders, retorting with, ''How'd you know? Is it the fact that I'm in an entirely different region from everyone else in the gym, or is it that I've avoided any type of interaction with the rest of you that makes you curious?''

''Funny.'' Smiling genuinely, he closes his eyes and cocks his head to the side. _You made him smile... It's been so long since you've made somebody happy – without providing ''favors.''_ ''You don't have to be so chary, you know. With the whole away from everyone thing, I know how you feel. It's like entering a dream world where you're subjected to yourself only, but don't make it a burden.''

 _...But I have to be this way._ ''All my life I've been circumspect. It's gotten me this far, so why should I switch things up now?'' _Why fix something that's not broken?_

Nodding his head, he doesn't seem to have a problem with my decision. ''That's not why I'm here, though. You see, Cassian advocated that us Careers go out and recruit those that we deem fit to join. After watching you for a while, I've come to the realization that you've got what it takes.''

 _I have what it takes? Sounds like an excuse to me._ ''No thanks,'' I deny his offer. ''I'm better working alone.''

To follow the rules and orders of some trained killer isn't fit for me. Doing as they please without having a say in what I think is best, or what I wanna do... That's just not my style, and it'll never be.

He narrows his eyes softly, a peculiar situation arising. ''Why? Joining us would aid you in making it further into the competition. It'd keep the Gamemakers interested in you, but going at it alone doesn't have that type of benefit. If you're boring, then they'll target you.''

Shaking my head, I disagree with his claims. ''Nope, that's not true.'' My voice sounds a bit harsh, but I keep it steady. ''Outer district tributes like me who join you guys have a _chance_ at making it far, but it's not guaranteed. Although, they're usually the first ones dead when there's no need for the alliance to stick together anymore. Remember Avery from last year? What happened to him when that little scuffle occurred? Three Careers died in the matter of twenty minutes, and he was the first to go.''

 _I'm just not willing to move with the unpredictable. When I'm by myself, I know what'll happen, but if I were to join them, it'd be a whole different story. I don't know how they think; I don't know what their chemistry is like. And if I go to sleep around them, who says that they won't kill me in my slumber, and I'd never know..._ ''I couldn't live with that... The risk isn't worth it – and it never will be.''

''What about the company, though?'' he inquires. ''Being alone would get boring, don't you think? Maybe you're right about the whole outer district thing, but I promise you that we wouldn't betray you. The past Careers were different from us. Besides, say you did join – what if you made it farthest? Isn't that something to ponder? You'd be able to go back home and play sports with your friends again, like baseball or something.''

Trying to get my mind off of this conversation, I cope with the stress by cutting through his logic. ''Orphans like me can't play baseball. You know why? It's because I don't even know where home is, to tell you the truth.''

Sorrowfully, he smirks just a little bit. His suppressed smile turns into a light form of laughter. _He's smiling... Again, just like before._ I stand here frozen, watching in awe at his generous expression. There's nothing short of a welcomed look on his face. My own reddens with embarrassment, my head spinning. Quickly turning away from him and facing the dummy once more, I hide my grin.

''Maybe I can't relate one hundred percent to what you've just said, but I'm there with you. Home is such a strange word, isn't it? Lucky for you, you've never been kicked out.'' I thought that I was the only one blushing, but his face is flushed, too. _But you've had parents in the picture,_ I wanna say.

There's an unspoken decision that hangs on his lips. Respectfully, he sighs, resigning to my previous statements. ''If you wanna be alone, then that's okay. Really, it is. I guess I'll be on my way, then.''

Before he completely leaves, though, he spins around on his heel and objects, holding his hand up in the air. ''If you want to have more of an impact with your strikes, I recommend that you stand perpendicular to your opponents with your feet shoulder width apart, and that instead of only rotating your hips, you turn with your whole body.''

Practicing the movement as he repeats the instructions, I follow through. ''Bend your knees to lower your center of gravity and move your weight to the balls of your feet. This'll allow you to use your entire body with every shot. If you don't perform your assaults this way, you could tire out your arms, which – I suppose you can guess – will lead to an increase of fatigue and you'll be open.''

For a few seconds, he watches me pounce forward once more, slamming the spear into the side of the dummy. ''Your blow should be a side-on tap or a thrust past the body to touch the opponent on the way back, remember that. Don't stab. The head of the spear should be pointed down, and make sure that that's the part which makes contact with your foe.''

He really walks away this time, back to his alliance. Alone now, I calm my breathing, remembering what he just taught me. _Perfect your footing, move your entire body, bend your knees, and thrust, don't stab._

Acting it out completely, I pierce the spear head through the dummy's chest, and to my surprise, the weapon lodges into the prop deeply, pushing past the restricted area that I once believed was blocked. It's almost as if the spear is engulfed in the dummy's body, sinking deep in it. So much more fatal...

 _Thank you._

Suddenly, something in me wants to call out the boy's name, to tell him to come back, because his company was appreciated. _He_ was appreciated. I don't feel as though I've made a mistake, but I do sense that I've let someone important go – someone that would make my days more worthwhile.

People like him... they aren't so bad.

 _If only life could've started out this way._

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! Okay, here we go with the second round. My goal is to get everyone at least two POVs before they die, and currently, I think I'll reach that goal. Granted, the Bloodbath chapter will definitely be a bit different, so that'll help out, too. Anyway, not much to say today. Was able to get this chapter up because of no school today. Senior friends are graduating, big families, tickets are expensive = an update. Anyway, yeah, we're slowly creeping up to the beginning of the end. This story has definitely been advancing quicker than I expected. I'd love to get it over with by the time summer ends, but I doubt that'll happen. A boy can hope, though. Keep voting on the poll. Seriously, the votes are pretty close, and I'm not even surprised with who you guys have been choosing so far. Lowkey, though, a few have like zero votes, which surprised me because of the good feedback that y'all provided for them. I guess you guys like them, but not more than the other ones. Y'all probably know who the tributes on top are, but we'll see who wins in two or three more chapters. Ight, question time.**

* * *

 **Favorite POV?  
**

 **Least favorite POV?**

 **What was the most interesting part of this chapter?**

 **You see a girl in the corner with a stun-baton that emits electricity. You don't know a single thing about it, but it looks deadly. Whatcha doin'?**

* * *

 **This has definitely been one of my favorite chapters to write for so far. The alliance building, the relationships forming, it's all nice. I bet many of you expected Imogen and Chayona; Pavel and Sebastian just needed to happen; and Darren and Eloise is always gonna be interesting, trust me. But Gideon and Aether, hm? I'd love to know what you guys think about those two. But yeah, I'm done with this chapter. It's around lunch time over here, and idk what I'm doing today, but hopefully you guys have a wonderful day/night doing whatever you've got planned. See y'all next time! ^-^  
**


	9. Safeguard

**Training Day III:**

* * *

 _Pretty city, skyscrapers will fool you.  
Look through the inner cities the rich won't move to,  
The nice parts, they well-protected by a vanguard;  
The opposite of how these concentration camps are._

* * *

 **Krissy McCoy, District Thirteen**

* * *

Drinking cold water while my body overheats with stress and worry feels like the greatest luxury on this planet. The ice falls against the glass, my fingers sliding on the condensation before they retain their grip. There's a chill that runs down my esophagus, making my head involuntarily shake.

A numbness creeps into my brain the same way it did when I took my first dose of morphling and eased away from all the pain and perturbation – oh, how I wish I could do that now. _No, you don't._

...I shouldn't. _Remember the addiction? Remember being beaten up? Remember being face-to-face with death?!_

When the glass is drained, I take the last cube of ice between my molars and bite hard, feeling it melt into cold pools on my palate. Completely feeling helpless, a sigh releases from between my teeth, sounding resigned and weary. It signals the end of a deliberate effort and the beginning of passive deterioration. If not for it coming from me, I wouldn't notice it, as it sounds like its movement is dissipating out into the vastness of whatever's out there.

Grabbing the pillow off of my bed, I smoosh my face into it, my jaw at an uncomfortable angle. Staying in this position, I walk outside of my room, casually groaning in anger. _Why does Pavel want to recruit children? Of all people, we have two twelve-year-old kids in our alliance. What the hell are they gonna provide?!_

When I make it out into the living room of my district floor, I slam the pillow against the ground in frustration, folding myself over the crimson couch. ''Why is it always me?''

''Are you okay, sweetheart?'' Tienya's voice fills my ears with a soothing tone.

Pouncing up, I cry out, ''No! I'm so conflicted between what I should do. I have two options, but time's clicking, and... and I don't know what I wanna do.''

''Well, what are your two choices?'' Gerald asks, his voice more distant than hers. They're not in my line of sight, so I suppose that they're in the kitchen or somewhere near the counter.

''Okay, so yesterday the boy from Four approached me and invited me into the Pack after he saw my medical knowledge. He said that I'd be a great fit to help them out if anything went wrong, but I haven't told Pavel yet.''

Tienya lets out a small murmur, probably discussing what I just said with Gerald secretly. ''And what's the alternative?''

''If I join the Careers, then I'll be betraying Pavel. Although, I did tell Four that I'd think about it, because what's better: trying to survive with two kids and an overprotective adult by your side, or trained killers who know what they're doing?'' I ask, feeling all types of mixed emotions. ''Either way, I'm at a disadvantage – I won't stand out if I'm in the Career Alliance, but I'll look like a fool if I stay with Pavel.''

''Actually, you _will_ stand out if you join the Careers,'' Gerald disagrees. ''If a girl from Thirteen – a district with no type of awareness for the Games or training at all – manages to make her way into an alliance as threatening as that, then surely heads will turn.''

''True. And, if anything, forget about Pavel's alliance. It sounds cruel, I know, but who are you trying to protect here? Do _you_ want to save little kids, or do you prefer surviving?''

There's honestly no need to even consider the options now, due to the way that these two considered the advantages and disadvantages of each alliance. Really, I'm propitiated towards the Careers because of Tienya's laconic words, but...

What if you don't live up to expectations? _Like how you didn't become everything your parents imagined, and Elsie replaced you? Aw... Are you gonna get nauseous if one of your allies needs surgery? What happens if one of their legs gets chopped off, or their arms become detached?_

''What if I disappoint them?'' I babble, tripping up over my words. ''What if one of the Careers' lives are on my hands and I'm under pressure? It's been so long since I've completed surgery – so long since I've sewn up ripped skin; so long since I've covered up blood; so long since I've witnessed gruesome fractures and lacerations!''

''Krissy...''

''What if I decide to remain with Pavel and all of a sudden one of those two little boys are in death's hands? Pavel would rely on me to fix them up, but what if I'm too squeamish to do anything about it? They'd die, and the blame would be on _me!_ ''

 _You're nothing,_ my mind upbraids. _And you never will be. You're not a tyro when it comes to medicine, but you just can't satisfy, can you? You really are useless._

Jumping up from my position on the couch, I begin to feel splenetic – angry at myself, angry at Pavel, angry at the Capitol, angry at those stupid rebels for screwing everything up..! ''My life was already terrible before these dumbass Games, but now..? Now things have taken a turn that I'm positive I can't steer away from!''

When I look up at my mentors, I'm shocked. Tienya half smiles, her eyes round and her face relaxed. ''Yes. Maybe they have, but come relax. Get your mind off of things and just... calm yourself.''

Gerald stifles a small laugh and turns to look me in the eyes; his are wide open and bloodshot. In his hands is some sort of needle, and inside of it is a powerful painkiller that I'm used to – morphling. _Stop looking at it!_ ''Krissy, it's okay. Come here.''

 _Have they been doing this ever since we arrived? I should've noticed the yellow skin a long time ago._ Something in me ticks, and despite how hard I try to resist the urge to move, I find myself approaching the two and sitting down at the same counter that they do.

''Give me your arm,'' Gerald insists, grinning from ear-to-ear. _Do it! Don't do it! Do it! Don't do it!_

 _You'll love it! Remember all the good memories, all the times you felt at peace? The world was beautiful with this lovely drug in your system._

Somehow, I find myself sticking out my arm, allowing the needle to enter my cephalic vein. Every decent and terrible thing to happen in my life flashes across my mind, starting from my youth up to now.

And at the end of it, I feel satiated.

* * *

 **Cassian Castellan, District Two**

* * *

''Which one of you goons wants to go up against me in the gauntlet?'' I question, looking at my allies. ''We haven't been in there yet, so why don't we have a little friendly competition and get away from all the serious training for once?''

A hearty laugh comes from Sota. ''What the hell? You couldn't even beat a couple of outer district kids.'' Grinning in a cocky manner, he nods his head towards a line near the very station that I was just speaking about.

Raising one eyebrow, I shake my head, surprised that he wants to test me like that. ''They'd put up more of a challenge than you ever would.''

''Whoa, whoa, aren't you two the competitive ones,'' Aurora chirps, a small simper on her face. Slapping my shoulder softly, she backs me up and says, ''But, c'mon now, I'm sure Cassian would easily beat them. Hell, they could team up against him and he'd still win. If not, then that'd be a shock – but I couldn't see it happening that way.''

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, I pull her closer to my body for a side-hug. ''This is why you're my favorite. Of course I'd never lose!''

''You're only giving him hope because he's the odd-one-out,'' Sota snickers. ''Trying to make him feel better won't make us forget the fact that you're the worst Career here. Other than him, you know.''

Aether stands quietly near Odessa, both of them watching, and Camille yawns, despite looking intrigued. Accusing him of his so-confident attitude, Aurora asks, ''Is that a challenge?''

''For you, maybe. But you can bet your sweet-ass that it won't be shit for me.'' Crossing his arms together, Sota waits for a witty reply, but all he gets is a bob of her head.

I stare into Aurora's eyes, determined not to look away. I'm certain that she's trying to hide something, but she doesn't let go. She contorts her lips into an awkward, toothy smile, but her cheeks aren't compromising. ''All right, we'll see. You better pull up next.'' When she averts her gaze back to me, her smile seems lifeless. ''So that means _you_ better hurry up and get going.''

With a friendly pull, she drags me to the inside of the gauntlet booth and then skips away, back to our allies. Staring at all of them, I raise my hand in the air and flick each of them off, starting from Sota and ending at Camille.

Now turning my attention to the three tributes that stand to the right of me, I flash them a devilish smile and whisper, ''Be careful...''

''If you don't know the rules of this station, then listen carefully,'' the main trainer heeds. ''This course consists of daunting obstacle courses that contain of ascending platforms and different sections of the training center overall. Your goal is to finish by jumping from platform to platform, climbing ropes, and swinging your way to the finish line in the fastest time possible. To make this even more difficult for you all, trainers will be swinging padded weapons at you.''

Chuckling just a little bit, I look the trainer right in her eyes, confident as if I've never had a failure in my life. Everything from the way I hold myself, to the way I speak and say, ''I'm ready!'' shows the unassailable self-assurance that I have.

 _If only my parents could see my right now, ready to take on a challenge. They'd look at me instead of my siblings, but I know that they're proud. Just wait 'till I'm on T.V., guys; I won't be outshone anymore._

With a sly smug, the trainer looks at each of us. Finally, she reaches me, her perfect white teeth glistening with a charm, fitting with her vanilla skin. ''Go!''

Acknowledging her command, I follow in a grueling pace without complaint, sprinting past the other three like I'm a bolt of lightning and they're the sound of thunder that comes after it. In my peripheral vision, I see a group of all the other tributes congregating together, watching closely.

I step on one of the platforms ahead, but my other foot remains on the one behind me. They both shoot up into the air, causing me to lose my balance and fly forward. Managing to somehow remain on my feet, I slow down as my heart thumps wildly, but the sound of two girls screaming puts me back in my place.

Behind me, Helena, I think her name is, bumps into the Eleven girl. Eventually they both fall down, Twelve landing on top of Eleven. They're both determined to get back up, though, as they push one another and scatter on the ground.

Leaping forward, I toss myself onto one of the descending platforms and push myself ahead. As I duck and rise, at last reaching the end of the first segment, a random wall appears and there's an arrow that flickers, signaling to the left. ''What? You've gotta be fuc—''

Before I can finish my sentence, a padded baton smacks me across the face, snapping my head back. Another one hits me in the side of the stomach, forcing me to reel in an unsystematic zone. Over and over again I'm attacked, painfully aware of the weapons slamming into my face and throat.

There are at least five trainers hovering over me, their batons, knives and swords hitting my back, continuing to screw me over. When a tribute comes into view, I barely make him out as the Seven boy, taking the commanding lead and running away with it. Soon enough, Helena jumps forward, too, and I can sense the faint footfalls of the Eleven girl.

Just as her foot pushes past my head, I grab her ankle furiously and pull it, my hand twisting slightly. She screams as she's dragged down to the floor, and one of the attacks land against her chest.

''You're cheating!'' she shouts, clawing back at me.

Standing up, my body swaying from side-to-side, I bare my bloody teeth and grin as she's now being beaten down by the trainers. With a genuine shrug, I say, ''That's not a bad thing, is it?''

I turn back around and give chase to the other tributes, observing them as they climb up the ropes course. Underneath me, like millions of red flowers blooming, the drops of blood fall from my mouth to the other platforms and leave a path.

 _...You cheated, huh? I thought you only cheated when you were scared that you'd fail._

''Ha, that's funny.'' Would they really be proud of me if they saw me like this, bleeding and limping slightly? Look at what I get for doing what _they_ wanted me to.

* * *

 **Helena Vasilev, District Twelve**

* * *

Out of nowhere, Cassian passes by me. He throws his arms up sloppily, and it looks like he doesn't know what he's doing, but he most definitely does.

The rocks fall beneath his feet, tumbling down as they crash near me. I know that there's a ledge, otherwise I'd be falling, but I can't see it at all – yet he and Condor can?! If I turn my head too far, I could unbalance, and the drop is pretty deep...

Already, the adrenaline courses unchecked, urging me to do what I can't. _Catch up to them! Show your worth and place at least second. Not third, not fourth, but either first or second!_

How ironic is it that as soon as I look back up, Cassian accelerates in the air and grabs Condor by the back of his shirt. With a rapid jerk, Condor is sent falling backwards, and his scream echoes from the top of his lungs. _He's coming right towards me you! Think, think, think!_ With quick timing, I barely manage to avoid Condor's heavy body from crashing into my own; luckily, only my legs are hit.

Dangling in the air, I listen as his body makes a loud thud with the soft mattress below. My muscles feel stronger all of a sudden, and now I'm definitely more awake than before. Risking it all, I reach up again, finding a small hole to push myself upward.

Once I make it to the top, I steadily move my way past the rope course by nimbly rushing through it. Surprisingly, even with my sweat-covered hands, I've gotten further than expected. ''Hey!'' I yell out, allowing the air conditioning to cool me down. All around me, the staff of trainers are smiling, and the other tributes are stunned. Cassian turns around, his lips stained with red. ''I'm coming for your ass!''

''Whatever!'' Rolling his eyes, Cassian jumps and barely gets a tight grip on the monkey bars. One of his arms is hanging limply by his side, while the other one is trembling with tiredness. Stabilizing my breath, I back up a few feet and position myself in a running-man stance.

With a bolt of speed, devoted on maintaining my placement and even passing him – to show that Careers don't always have what it takes – I jump off of the balcony edge and soar past four monkey bars. Right when I'm about to fall and hit the floor, I throw my hands up and involuntarily latch onto the swings.

Cassian's only a few feet ahead of me, but the course isn't that much longer from ending; he's currently about ten more sets from reaching the finish line. Swinging forward – carried by my momentum – I come extremely close to Cassian – close enough to where I can breathe down his neck, and I can tell from his reaction that he doesn't like that.

On impulse, I push both of my legs into his back right as he lets go of a bar, and he lands on the finish line. Immediately after, I land there, too. The Careers are all currently laughing, pointing at Cassian but applauding him at the same time. The girls from One and Four help lift him up as he lies on the ground, groaning in discontent. Staring up at me, the One girl smiles kindly and nods her head in what appears to be acceptance.

''Congratulations on coming in second place.'' Turning around, I spot the instructor approaching me. ''I wasn't expecting something like that from a Twelve tribute.''

I feel like every fiber of me is being vibrated with anticipation. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins, my hands are trembling, and my lips are quivering. The excitement wires my body like I'm plugged into some sort of outlet, and I feel like my brain is on fast-forward, yet there's no switch.

Taking a bow, I rub my hands together. ''Well, you know me, different from most Twelve kids. Ain't it good to be introduced to something new?''

''It surely is,'' she agrees. ''It's a shame that you came in second, though. If you two hadn't collided into each other, I'm sure that you could have swerved around him or something and came in first.''

''Yeah, you're right, but I did my best, and I accomplished my goal so I'm happy!'' With a curt nod, the trainer raises her hand into the air and waits for a high-five. Willingly, I gleefully act out the gesture. Although, I can't help but think about what she just said.

 _You really could have won,_ I realize. _And maybe you only got second because another tribute cheated, but you showed him who's boss. You showed everyone here that you're willing to go after what you want, and although this might not be the most amazing thing that you've achieved, you really got your point across._

Grunts resound behind me, letting me know that Condor and the other girl have reached the finish line. Whipping around, I rush towards the two and stand right in front of them, saying, ''You guys did really good!''

Rolling his eyes, Condor replies with, ''Yeah, totally. Falling tens of feet in the air because some guy wanted to sabotage me definitely sounds like a good thing.''

''Hey, don't be like that.'' Nudging his shoulder, I add, ''If he hadn't done that, you would have surely came in first. But don't even worry about it, dude. Do you even understand how much potential you have? You're so athletic! The way you were dodging those trainers and boosting past the gauntlet as a whole was amazing!''

A small smile replaces the upset look that he once had on his face. Now turning to Eleven, I grab her hand and stare her in the eyes. ''You, too. Don't think I forgot about you. Seriously, you were so much better than me in the beginning. When we bumped into each other, I wasn't expecting you to get back up so quick. It was a great race between the two of us until it was tragically ruined, though...''

''What are you trying to say?'' Condor asks, and despite his attempt to look and sound serious, he has a jovial expression on his face.

''I'm trying to say that I want the three of us to form an alliance!'' Maybe blurting it out isn't the best way to let them know that I'm interested in the both of them, but I can't be any more subtle. Pointing, I start with, ''I know that he's Condor, but who are you?''

''Aaliyah,'' Eleven says, scratching her head. ''I don't know, though. You're captivating and all, but what's there to offer?''

''What's there to offer?'' I repeat her question. ''Think about it! With my drive, Condor's athleticism, and your innovation, we could turn some heads. What do you guys think?''

Sticking out my hand, I wait for them to accept my offer. ''Fine,'' Condor agrees, but Aaliyah walks away, declining my offer.

Maybe it's selfish of me to try and force her into joining an alliance with me like this, but when I want something, I _have_ to get it. Later on I'll try again, but right now, Condor is my main focus. And most importantly, with him by my side, the two of us are gonna be a formidable alliance.

Possibly even the best duo out there in these Games.

* * *

 **Camille Lussier, District Two**

* * *

Cassian's dragged out by Aurora and Odessa back to where the rest of us currently stand. Sota's jumping around energetically, leaning against Aether and slapping his knee in mockery of Cassian's so called ''victory.''

''Yeah, you totally showed them, didn't you?'' Continuing his little joke, he wipes at his eyes and attempts to say something else, but he only ends up stuttering over his words.

''At least he tried,'' Odessa speaks up. ''Come on, we're allies. I don't care if you make fun of him, but if you haven't done anything to back up your statements, then shut the fuck up. Seriously, the shit that you've been doing lately has been mad sketchy, and I'm not sure where you stand in this alliance.''

''Are you really trying to start something here?'' Sota can't believe what he's hearing – that someone's actually standing up to him. ''Why don't you just calm down? Besides, I haven't seen you contribute to anything. Where do _you_ stand? Why are you even in this alliance?''

''I'm deserving of being here because all I want to do is win, but I'm not gonna deride others for messing up.'' Letting go of Cassian, Odessa hands him to Aurora and gets in Sota's face. With a little bump, she pushes her chest into his, even as he towers over her, and says, ''Now stop.''

A laughable expression becomes plastered on my face, and for some odd reason, I feel like I can let my guard down for a little bit. Odessa's goals are clear as day, and she doesn't seem like one to back-stab in an alliance. Sota tries to slowly push her away, but she moves out of his arm's reach and snarls.

Averting my attention back to Cassian, I conceal a small smirk. _That's what you get,_ I wanna say. _Even though you got what you deserved, my revenge is yet to come._

''Tributes!'' On the speakers ahead, a voice commences. Turning around to face the front of the training center, I watch the newest Head Gamemaker – Jarion Maverick – announce his orders into the microphone. ''Please make your way outside of the training center and place yourselves in a line. Make sure that you are in girl-boy order, and start at District One and end at District Thirteen. One-by-one, each of you will be called back in here so that you can perform the skills that you have learned from your three days of training. You will all be given five minutes, and once you're finished, my colleagues and I will asses the quality of your abilities.''

When everyone is assembled by the various Peacekeepers, I can't help but remember the way things were done back in Two. To evaluate each person's skill back at home, the Victors and trainers would watch us all closely, and whoever would last the longest and showed the most determination would be seen as capable. This system of everyone going one-by-one is a deviation for me.

Whispering in my ear, Cassian hypes himself up way more than he should and addresses his plans for what he's gonna present to the gamemakers. ''You think they'll be interested in a dual-weapon showcase?''

''I don't know,'' I answer honestly, ''but if I were you, I'd focus on making sure that I'm good to perform. There's no reason for you to exhaust yourself over a five minute session.''

''Aurora Maran, please enter through the double-doors of the training center.'' A robotic voice startles me, the difference between a normal Capitolite voice and this one being extremely distinct. ''I repeat: Aurora Maran, please enter through the double-doors of the training center.''

With alacrity, Cassian chides against my previous opinion. ''No way! I gotta get a high score, and sitting it out just to prevent further pain isn't an option.''

Shrugging, I shake my head and let him be. ''Do what you want to do,'' I caution, ''but whatever happens is on you.''

After a few more moments later, Aurora walks out of the training center with a smile on her face.

Reaching out, Cassian grabs her arm before she can get away any further. ''How do you think you did?''

''Pretty good,'' she answers. ''Everything that I was planning to do happened because they had the specific items that I needed. Really, just don't stress over it.''

With that, she walks away. ''Aether Cynephris, please enter through the double-doors of the training center.'' Again, that same voice comes on, but I've become accustom to it within a few minutes. ''I repeat: Aether Cynephris, please enter through the double-doors of the training center.''

That Aurora girl... I don't know her very well, but the cumulative effect of her friendliness is a vast improvement from the people that I've met throughout my life; although, I'm not fond of her very much. She's a good girl who I _think_ that I'd be able to trust, but—

''What are you thinking about?'' Cassian picks up on my thoughtful state. ''You look like you're stuck in a trance.''

Not holding anything back, I decide to let what I think out. ''Do you trust Aurora?''

''What?'' He sounds appalled that I even brought this topic up. ''Of course I do. Why would you ever ask that?''

''Because she's trying way too hard to be likable?'' I blurt. ''Seriously, have you not seen how happy she's been trying to be? Who the hell is that excited to enter the Games? Either she's crazy or she's planning something, and I don't like it. Or maybe she's just plain desperate for friends.''

''Oh, shut up,'' he dismisses all possibilities of my assumptions. ''You're just jealous that the rest of us like her more than we like you.''

''Who is the rest of us? Are you sure that you're not the only one who takes an interest in her?'' I demur. Behind him, the Three girl widens her eyes and then looks away, attempting to mind her own business. ''Because it seems like you two have been kissing each other's asses lately.''

The double-doors swing open once again, and out comes Aether, stony-faced as ever. Without really sparing us a glance, he heads toward the area that Aurora went to, but he flashes Three a sudden glimpse... _What?_ _Him but not us?_

''Camille Lussier, please enter through the double-doors of the training center. I repeat: Camille Lussier, please enter through the double-doors of the training center.''

Strutting away from Cassian, I press both of my palms against the the double-doors and get ready to push. ''It's not my fault that the rest of us are more attracted to her because she's prettier than you.''

''Can you _shut up?_ '' I demand, forcing myself into the grand luxury of the gym. A bead of sweat slowly trickles from my forehead and down to my cheek. _I'm ready for this, so there's no way that I can't show up. There should be no reason for me to score low. Hanni, Aurora and Sheri are all counting on me._

 _For those three ladies... I have to do good for them, but also for myself. While I'm here, proving my worth and giving my all, I've gotta worry about no-one other than me. All my goals are straightforward, and I need to keep them that way. This is my one chance to earn something on my own._

''Hello. It's a pleasure to be demonstrating my talents in front of you wonderful gamemakers.'' Bowing slightly, I remember to act as the courteous and proper girl that I was raised to be.

''As it is a gratification of ours to categorize your prowess. I am expecting big things from you.'' Interlacing his fingers together, Jarion leans forward in his seat and places his hands underneath his chin. ''You may proceed, Ms. Lussier.''

Searching for the weapons rack, I set my sights on a particularly sturdy, double-headed axe.

Now, let's see... What types of holograms would they let me commence my onslaught against?

* * *

 **Odessa Adria, District Four**

* * *

''Cassian Castellan, please enter through the double-doors of the training center. I repeat: Cassian Castellan, please enter through the double-doors of the training center.''

''Odessa,'' Sota speaks softly, gently tapping me on my shoulder. ''You think you're ready for this?''

''No, of course not.'' Unable to understand why he would ask such a question, I tilt my head to the side and say, ''Why wouldn't I be? I've been training for years, and all I did these past three days was hone in on my skills.''

''Well, maybe because some people choke?'' he brings up. ''Everyone thinks that they're prepared, but what happens if you get nervous while all those gamemakers are paying close attention to you? Huh, then what?''

''I don't know, maybe focus on the task at hand and not care about their opinions?'' Shrugging, I shake my head and let out a pent-up sigh.

''That's easy for you to say now, but just wait.''

''And what about you?'' I question.

''Don't worry about me, I'm prepared for this,'' he assures. ''Besides, even if I was worried, the gamemakers have my back. I'm famous here, girly – and that's a grandeur that you won't ever have the chance to enjoy. You shouldn't doubt someone as famous as—''

''That's Fizzy Pop,'' I hear one of the Peacekeepers whisper. ''If anything, my money's on him. With the popularity that he has here in the Capitol, it'd be a crime not to give him the win.''

Sota hears this at the exact same moment that I do. Furrowing my eyebrows, I'm ready to say something, but then he sticks out his tongue in a contemptuous manner, jeering me silently.

''I wouldn't mind if he did. I bet with Teresse and all the others in our squadron that he would win. If he really is handed the title of Victor, though, then that's unfortunate for everyone else, but hey, who cares? As long as I'm getting my second payment, I'm perfectly fine with that.''

''Ah, well. I should've bet on him, too, but my money went to that Aether kid. The ones who tend to stay quiet throughout their entire time in the Capitol go a little coo-coo sometimes and end up coming out, if ya know what I mean...''

Sota's face contorts into a look of disgust. ''Aether? The fuck?''

''Hey, do you remember what genre of music he sang? It's been so long since I've played one of his songs, but I remember some of it being trip-hop.''

''It was trip-hop mixed with retro synth-wave. There was never an album of his that I didn't like – actually, there was never a song of his that I didn't like. Remember the one that we used to always blast in our patrol cars?''

''Oh, are you talking about 'I Fucked the President's Daughter'?'' The one answering laughs. Both of them snicker silently together, causing me to wonder what the hell I've been missing out on. I can sense Sota nodding his head as he stares at me – so cocky, so confident, so deluded...

''That was on the billboard's top one hundred, and I remember it being fifth behind his 'U Make Me Wanna Uhh!' That little scandal revolving around him and Helen and their lewd acts happened during that time, too, and his song titles didn't help his case. Press and media were all over his sack.''

''Yeah, and did you see the leaked video? That kid has a tool.'' In the line, every tribute goes quiet, and we all feel a little bit disturbed.

''No, that wasn't his... It was most likely some random film actor's, I don't know, but his face was obviously edited in that video. His body didn't correspond with what was happening, and everything was out of sync, so...''

''Who are you?'' Rolling my eyes, I cross my hands and almost laugh. ''They act like you're something more than a joke.''

''A joke like me wouldn't have this much of a following. Besides, this 'joke' actually pays attention to when his name's called. If I'm such a fool, then what does that make you?''

''Odessa Adria, please make your way through the double-doors of the training center. I repeat: Odessa Adria, please make your way through the double-doors of the training center.''

Right before I enter the training room, I look back and stand upright. ''I'm still the better Career. And unlike you, I don't remain in this little fantasy world of my past glory. Maybe you should learn to stray away from that.''

Stepping inside the gym, I nod my head at the gamemakers and wait for their word. ''You have five minutes, Ms. Adria. You may begin.''

Reaching the weapons rack, I pull out a trident and inspect what's been done so far. A couple of people have torn up dummies, a few others have been in the holographic chambers, and someone decided to even build some sort of electric-type weapon. Huh. ''May I please demonstrate my skills against two of your best Peacekeepers – or your strongest trainers, whichever you prefer.''

With a clap of Jarion's hands, two muscular men appear in front of me, both of their expressions cold and heartless. The only things that move are their masticating jaws, working some sort of food around their white teeth. With hard-rimmed eyes – which make them look as if they're stuck in that position forever, like they've rusted in place – they charge at me.

Focusing, I quickly spin around the first one's attack and do rapid work by prying the cutlass from his hands. Surprised, he attempts to jump back, but I swipe my trident forward and slash at his fingers, causing them to grow swollen in an instance. The other one is surprised, and I can hear his footsteps coming from the side of me.

Stalling his attack by facing him, I avoid his strike, watching as a wretched, stained grin splits his lips when my fist makes contact under the brutality of his compelling strength. The blades of my trident flash as I bring the weapon over his chestplate, keeping my feet steady, my arms balanced, and in a swift tune, I plunge it forward.

Groaning, he tries to remove it from his chest, but I do that for him. Despite the trident not truly killing him, he's for sure out for the count. Growling, the other trainer somehow manages to grab a small scythe and levels it above his head, swinging down at my neck.

Jumping out of the attack's radius, I swipe my legs downward, momentarily avoiding a fatal scratch from residing itself in me. The trainer is still in a slumped-down position, his scythe stuck in the cement floor of the training room.

 _Gotcha!_ With a blowing force, I ram my elbow into his nose and continue my attack even as the blood pours from his broken facial bone. The end of my trident makes contact with the male's neck, and as he gasps for air, I force my knee into the back of his leg, causing him to fold underneath the pressure, and raise my trident directly above his nape.

Stopping our battle, I turn to the clock and notice that I've got about fifteen seconds left. Signaling the end of my round, I look up at the gamemakers and fix the breathing that I have in motion, giving way to deeper puffs when I stop. With a drenched and flushed face, I smile, coming to the comprehension that I'm out of my zone and back in reality.

The timer sounds. ''Time's up, Ms. Adria. Thank you for your cooperation. You are now free to go,'' Jarion says, muttering to his fellow gamemakers.

I did as best as I could, and whatever score I receive is up to them. Whatever happens, I know that I gave it my all, and whether or not I agree with the result, I'll leave my heart out in the arena.

Trotting out of the room, I give Sota a crooked smile. ''You're next, Fizzy Pop.''

* * *

 **Lachlan Smith, District Six**

* * *

A knot of butterflies sit at my stomach, but I'm positive that I did good enough during my session for them to dissipate. _Anything ranging from a six to an eight is good for me, but I can do much better. I believe in myself._

''How do you think you did?'' Bree asks, walking with me towards the television screen in the living room. On our way there, it becomes hard for me to look away from the couch. Like everything else in this penthouse, it tells a story, a testimony to the personality of all the other tributes that once sat here. _Bree probably sat on it last year._

The piece makes more for style than comfort, a moderately priced copy of some truly talented designer in this devious city. ''I expect nothing less than a _six_ , honestly.''

''That's a decent score, and I'm glad that you believe in yourself enough to imagine getting that.''

''Do you remember what score you received last year, and how'd you react?'' I wonder.

''I got a _seven_. When I saw it, I felt fairly confident, but not many people in the Capitol had my name as the front-runner in their predictions. If you don't get what you want, just remember that training scores are a mere estimate. People with _threes_ have won before.''

Nodding, I walk over to the couch and lie on it, my feet twitching to the Capitol theme song, my face as passive as it would be in my slumber. Bree moves closer, kneeling down and touching my skin lightly. ''If there's one thing that I'm certain of, it's that you unquestionably scored higher than Lucretia.''

''You got jokes, huh?'' Laughing lightly, I thank her for the boost and continue with my relaxed disposition.

''All right, well, I'm gonna go use the bathroom,'' Bree excuses herself. ''Dalan's inside if you need anything, so don't disturb me... Unless something major happens, or you wanna tell me what score you received. But other than that, leave me alone.''

''Don't worry, I got you.'' I shoo her away like a fly, playing around with her like the two of us are little schoolyard children.

In the meantime, the Capitol station is displaying videos of important aspects of each District. District One starts out first, showing a gemstone, while Two appears with some sort of building block. Three transitions into static electricity, and a sea appears for Four, leaving me lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves on the sand.

My eyes are steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckons the stars through the window frames. After District Five, they show a destroyed monument of District Six, surrounded by wreckage and the haunting screams of residents.

Walking out of his room, Dalan inches toward me. He's about to open up his mouth and address the terror on the screen, but I stop him before he can say anything.

''Come sit,'' I invite, patting down on the seat next to me. Reluctantly, he does, and right on time, too, because Addison Chevel sits herself down in front of her own desk and begins.

''You ready for this?'' Dalan inquires.

''Of course.''

''Welcome, Panem, to the night before the interviews. Tonight, we'll be reviewing the scores that these beautiful children were given after their private sessions this afternoon,'' Addison introduces. ''For sponsors out there, remember: it's better to place your bets on the tributes who receive decent-to-high training scores. Anyway, let's get started.''

''You don't understand how much fear's pounding in my chest right now.'' Sparing a look at Dalan, I gesture for him to continue, as I'm open for a nice chat.

''What do you mean by that?''

''From District One, Aurora Maran received the score of a... _nine!_ Fabulous job, Aurora,'' Addison congratulates.

''Perhaps it's just my overprotective nature, but I feel like there's danger,'' Dalan cautions. ''Really, I'm focusing more on you rather than Lucretia, even if you're not my tribute. It sounds wrong, but I want to preserve the most deserving – the one who can do much more with that victory. If you receive a bad score, then you don't stand much of a chance at winning. These Capitolites won't care for your life if you don't show up.''

Aurora's smiling hologram morphs into Aether's straight face. ''Also from District One, Aether Cynephris was granted with the promising score of... also a _nine!_ Good job to the both of them.''

''They don't care for my life now,'' I fix the logic behind his sentence, sounding upset. ''If they did, I wouldn't have gotten reaped – none of us would have. But still, don't worry. I don't expect anything less than a _six_ from myself, and you shouldn't either.''

''From District Two, Camille Lussier has been given the promising score of _ten!_ ''

''I'm sorry, Lachlan,'' Dalan apologizes. ''After my years of mentoring, it's just gotten to me, but there's something about the confidence in tributes that evaporates my fear. I really needed that.''

''Again, from District Two, Cassian Castellan is pronounced with the score of a _nine!_ Decent enough, Cassian.''

Up next, the District Three tributes' scores are revealed. When I hear what both of them receive, it not only surprises me, but I'm certain that the entirety of Panem is perplexed. Chayona received a _seven_ , and Gideon received a _six_.

''From District Four, Odessa Adria with the score of a _ten!_ ''

 _She's dangerous,_ I make a mental note. I should've known that already, but when you see a _ten_ next to a tribute's name, you can't help but still be surprised, no matter what District they come from.

''From District Four, Sota Shirai with the score of an... Whoa. An _eleven?_ Am I reading this correctly? My word, Panem. It's been decades since we've seen a tribute score an _eleven_ , and that tribute didn't even win the previous time. Will it be a different outcome this time around? Sota surely has what it takes, apparently. Fantastic job!''

An _eleven?_ How?

''Impressive...'' Dalan murmurs.

Crossing my arms together, I lean back against the couch and sigh respectfully. Never have I ever been easily moved by something that somebody else accomplished, but this is shocking...

I expected something big from him, but nothing _this_ big. _What other surprises are in store for me?_

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee, whattup? I've realized that I have a habit of updating chapters at night, and then I always end up showing up to plans with friends/family late. It's like 9:23 over here and I'll probably get to whatever's going on around 10:30, if I'm quick. But that's all right. Am I proud of this chapter? I like some POVs while others not so much, and I felt as though I could've done more, but there's only so little that comes to my mind when I already have the layout of the chapter planned. And other tributes are destined for certain events, so this just has to do. Now that I've gotten this 6-POV chapter out of the way, I feel as though I can rest easy and let it ride from now on. Two more days of school for me. Chem, French 2, and AA History Honors and then I'm fucking done, y'all. Summer's boutta be lit af with everything going on, and although I might have more time on my hands to write these chapters, I'm definitely gonna be enjoying myself so I hope y'all don't mind if chapters come late.**

 **Rn, I honestly feel like throwing all of my binders in my neighborhood lake and getting rid of this stressful ass school year. Everyone said Junior year was gonna be the toughest, but I didn't listen. But ya boy don't gaf, though, because it's over. I wanna dropkick an AP and run just because, but anyway, lemme actually talk about the chapter. Not really much to say, but Odessa's POV was probably my favorite. Maybe it's 'cuz I'm immature and don't really take stuff seriously, but I found it fun to write. Btw, that was all for you, Nate, I didn't forget about the extra ;) The fact that I've gotten all these special tributes, and I've only come to actually realize the amazement of it all, really gets me thinking. There's a lot of stuff planned already, but now I just have more ideas to add to the fire. Besides that, the poll will be revealed next chapter, so keep voting if you haven't already. It's been a mix up so far between like 5 tributes, and someone's come back from being kinda low. Ight, here are the scores and why:**

* * *

 **Aurora Maran - 9 - Chain whip display.  
Aether Cynephris - 9 - Slashing dummies.  
Camille Lussier - 10 - Holographic battles, flirted a little.  
Cassian Castellan - 9 - Dual-weapon fighting, but his limp restricted his abilities.  
Chayona Watt - 7 - Created a pistol that shot out electric bolts, did not finish.  
Gideon Alvaro - 6 - Aether's tips gave him an advantage with a spear.  
Odessa Adria - 10 - Defeated two grueling Capitolite trainers.  
Sota Shirai - 11 - Crossbow display, along with his fame and credibility gave him an advantage.  
Imogen Pryor - 7 - Created a mini-taser and stunned Capitolites for three minutes. Instead of doing anything else, she had a lovely chat with them as they couldn't move or speak.  
Sebastian Hammond - 5 - Fire-starting and rock-climbing.  
Lucretia Hannover - 4 - Acted entitled for a decent score, but sliced a few dummies at the end.  
Lachlan Smith - 6 - Solved challenging puzzles but fumbled a bit with a rampuri.  
Natalie Needle - 6 - Agile movement with knives.  
Condor Teal - 5 - Athleticism but nothing else.  
Eloise Allegro - 6 - Background with a cleaver aided her in defending herself.  
Darren Leicester - 7 - Dirty street-fighting tactics allowed him to disarm a Peacekeeper and fight back.  
Cherokee Franklin - 3 - Screamed when chased by a trainer and furiously smacked him with a rod, but there was no coordination or skill.  
Millet Arrowroot - 6 - With his emotions running high, he wasn't at his best when he ripped apart dummies with his khopesh - at least some frustration was let out, and that got a nod of satisfaction from the Head Gamemaker.  
Gracie Sullivan - 2 - Spat random facts about horses the entire five minutes, felt disgusted when there were a bunch of males in the room and only a few females, and was awarded for her humor.  
Mackenzie Ellesmere - 5 - Played a few stupid jokes and set out traps that holographic mutts fell for.  
Aaliyah Ransier - 5 - Frustration and feelings blindsided her from competing to the best of her abilities .  
Malik Sherman - 7 - Incredible strength display, wrestling against trainers.  
Helena Vasilev - 4 - Shot a few darts that were coated with poison, but was unable to hit many moving figures/standing figures.  
Aspen Northill - 2 - Lashed out at gamemakers who said he lacked common sense when he messed up with a few simple tasks, attempted to throw a knife at their wall but didn't come close.  
Krissy McCoy - 8 - In her drugged state, she didn't feel very much and was calm. Her medical knowledge surpassed anything that the gamemakers intended on seeing, leaving them shocked that someone from Thirteen could be so intelligent. Her stitching up of ripped dummies and surgical procedures did it for her.  
Pavel Elsbeth - 5 - Longed to be told what to do and was unsure of what to showcase. Eventually decided to use a baton but didn't have enough experience to impress the gamemakers and Peacekeepers.**

* * *

 **Favorite POV?**

 **Least favorite POV?**

 **Any training scores you were surprised by and thought were too high or too low?**

 **Two more chapters till the bloodbath, who do you think will die?**

* * *

 **Tbh, I might've been a bit too generous on these scores, but I think they're pretty realistic. A lot of these tributes have backgrounds that aren't too weapon-surrounded, but they've got a bit of this and that. If you're unsure of anything or are confused, just check out the blog. It's updated throughout the story. Anyway, yeah, I'm ready to go mess around tonight. Hope you've all had a wonderful day so far, and wherever you are and whatever time it is, may everything be goin' good for ya! I'll see y'all next chapter! ^-^  
**


	10. Frustration

**Interviews:**

* * *

 _Like, don't you know that they got families?  
Don't you know that they got mothers?  
Some of y'all lost a couple of friends,  
Would you like to lose another?_

* * *

 **Mackenzie Ellesmere, District Ten**

* * *

 _This isn't any weirder than the first time,_ I almost voice.

''Sit still for me, child,'' Venida barks, her instructions loud and clear. The other stylists are nowhere to be found. _They're probably taking care of the outfit that I'm gonna be wearing for tonight's event._

As Venida assorts the equipment on the table for the umpteenth time, I begin to grow bored. ''Why are you taking so long?''

''Because the preparations must be in perfect order. If not, everything could go wrong, and I am _not_ going to look like a fool in front of the entire nation.'' Once she's done explaining her reasoning, she sighs, and I can see a frown in front of the bureau mirror.

''Perfectionist, much?''

'' _Yes!_ '' she stresses, looking me right in the eyes. ''Children like you could never understand the stress that us stylists have to go through. You honestly don't know how easy you have it.''

 _...How easy I have it?_ Baffled, I rest my head in my hands. _Easy?!_ A momentary flash of anger brushes across my face, but I hold it back. ''How do we have it easy? You're not the one who has to go out there tonight and impress millions of sponsors, you know?''

''I don't _need_ to impress any sponsors,'' she says in a matter-of-fact tone, placing her hand up against her heart. ''Look, I'm sorry that you have to go into the Games, but how is that my fau—''

Her words instantly become clouded from my mind. Happy is my usual state, yet I stare at Venida in a cold way – the same way I always stare whenever something makes me upset. My stomach twists, turning rigid, and I feel my spirit sink into nothingness – even my aura turns monochrome.

My words crash out unchecked, unaltered. ''Shut up! How is it not your fault?! You live here! You should be protesting against the Games so that people can live their normal lives without worrying about their kids dying, but you don't, do you? You don't even care that I could be dead by tomorrow afternoon!''

The second voice in my head is telling me to go deeper, to snap, but I can't push the thought back. The explosion's already in process, and there's no reverse gear, no dampener. Every word is clipped, punching into the air.

''Have I ever _specifically_ told you that I did not care for you? Maybe you should lower your voice and actually—'' She stops mid-sentence, inspecting the look on my face. ''...Are you? Whatever you do, _don't_ cry. Crying is the absolute _worst_ action to commit in a situation like this! You're so close, and you want to cry?''

''Close to what, death?''

A week ago, I wouldn't have been able to understand why someone would want to cry. Life is so enjoyable when you live it the right way and have fun. But now, basically alone in an environment of quietus... I do.

''You've seen the Games. You've seen how tributes end up!'' I shout, slamming my fists against my thighs. ''I could either die from quick relief or a painstakingly long process. Either way, in the end, I'm in a state of confusion, denial, embarrassment and anger because of _you!_ ''

Before she can say anything, I jump up out of my seat and attack. I don't know what happens, but in a quick blur, my fist slams into her gut, forcing her to sink into her stomach. _Why'd you do that?_

Recoiling back, I come to a sudden stop. Turning my head to the left, I take in the inventory. The makeup here is a maximum, reserved to an abundant amount of mascara, lipstick, and many more items that would only make me appear to be someone I'm not.

Grabbing one of the brushes, I dust it into the nearest makeup powder that I can find. Applying some fine chalk powder to Venida's face, I roughly uneven her eyes with the black dust, making them lopsided. She grunts in disgust, but I'm able to use the eyeliner to draw a purple of amethyst on her cheek. In my attempt to design a dick on her face, I just miss out on the last ball when she rises. Chuckling to myself, I say, ''That really contrasts your cherry-red curls beautifully!''

My fingers search for something else to use while she looks at herself in the polished mirror. I come in contact with a pair of scissors, and, taking in her green dress, edged with white frills, a devious idea pops into the forefront of my mind. Running around her, I jump back up on the chair and cut the straps on the back of her dress. The top portion of her body is revealed, and she desperately attempts to catch the falling piece of clothing.

''You pervert!'' she screams.

Shrugging, I apologize sarcastically. ''Sorry, but I'm not impressed enough to be aroused.''

Her pearl earrings are fastened to her ears, but they're soon falling to the floor when I rip them out with force. And when I say that she screams, I'm telling you... she _screams_.

''Son of a—!''

Positioning myself in front of her, I cut her off and express my opinion. ''Your lips could actually use a bit more gloss.'' Cocking my head back, I push my tongue forward and spit on her mouth, giving it a wet shine.

Finally done with my jest, I run for the door and place my hand on the knob. Before exiting, I catch her staring at me furiously, the fumes basically being visible on top of her head.

''You disgusting, truculent, indignant, deleterious cretin!''

''Joke's on you, I don't even know what half of those words mean!'' Sticking out my tongue, I try my best to hold back a laugh.

''Why would you do that?!''

''It was just a prank, bro. Maybe you should take that thong out of your ass so that you don't take it so seriously next time.''

Opening the door and rushing out, I skip down the hallway and giggle like a little girl. Man, I swear, even the birds outside would shut up to hear my energetic laughter emerging and filling the air with gorgeous sounds coming from deep within my chest.

Like I said, life can be enjoyable. _I guess you just have to make it that way._

* * *

 **Aurora Maran, District One**

* * *

''Welcome, people of Panem, to the one and only tribute interviews! You've all been waiting for this, the night that you can witness the personalities of all your favorite tributes and decide who you wanna bet on. We'll fall in love, we'll cry, we'll say farewell to those we don't want to die. This is the One Hundred Seventy-Seventh _Hunger Games!_ ''

Turning around, I look down the line, and _every_ single tribute has their eyes on _me_. My nerves are frayed to the quick. In the building of my anxiety, I construct elaborate rationalizations as to why things won't go as bad as I assume.

 _I'll be elegant, I'll speak fluently, and I'll act confident._ Navidia and I went through five hours in my prep room for this special night. We went over how I should walk, how I should talk – we even had practice questions pertaining to my alliance and the relationship that I've grown with these guys. _I'll do good... I will!_

Cassian meets my eyes with his own, and with a reassuring smile, he whispers, ''You'll do fine. Stop worrying about it and just _talk_.''

Just talk... That's all, _just_ talk. Nodding my head, I turn around and wait for instructions. The guard in front of the line, big, buffed up, intimidating, says, ''Your name will be called in a few seconds. Be ready.''

His boring voice only makes me smile, because I _have_ to be happy and cheerful and pleasant – like always. And right on time, after completing the introductions, Addison calls me out. ''All the way from District One, let's start out with the lovely Aurora Maran!''

As soon as I step onto the stage, I hear the thundering roar of the audience. They're loud, energetic, joyous, and when I turn to look at them, my heart sinks. Row after row is filled with all different types of colors. Exotic ones that I've never seen before, sponsors of different magnitudes, and I bet that a few influential and important celebrities are staring me in the eye _right now_.

My breathing becomes rapid, and I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples.

''Aurora, yes, girl!'' Addison shouts. ''I love that beautiful side cut-out-sleeved body dress! Skin tight fits you, honey! Oh, you're just lookin' like a snack, baby! Do a spin! Do a spin!''

Doing what she asks for, I spin around three times and rile up the crowd. But honestly, it's a relief to get to the chair, because between the heels of my exposed legs shaking, I'm afraid I'll trip.

''Thank you for having me here!'' I gush out, throwing on a happy exterior. _Something's wrong. Addison is never this nice to tributes, so what's her game?_

Preparing myself for her impending question, I expect it to be something that has to do with my allies, but then she hits me with a surprise.

''Some sources tell me that you used to do ballet... but you quit. Why?''

 _Who told her this? Why is her first question so personal?_

''Because I wanted to volunteer for the Games,'' I quickly think up a lie. ''...It was either I become a Victor in the Hunger Games, or waste my time on some _s-silly_ hobby. Coming to the Capitol and entertaining you people is what's most important, of course!''

The lies swirl all around me, suffocating me, leaving me in an empty shape. It's like my breath is being stolen, but I manage to maintain and control it just enough so that I don't look distressed. Addison stares at me with narrowed eyes while the audience cheers, almost as if she can see the deceit coming from my perfect teeth – as if all vibrations in the air are inconsequential in the medium that they travel through.

She raises her hand, telling the audience to quiet down. The Capitolite phenomenon has _so_ much power over everyone, and she most likely knows the honesty about my mother forcing me to tryout for the volunteer position. _Does she know about Jameson?_

''Would you mind telling us about your brother?''

 _Of course she does._

''Jameson is his name, correct?'' I nod my head to her question. ''How come he didn't volunteer along with you? Is there some sort of sibling rivalry that you two had going on, and you ended up beating him?''

 _Be logical!_ I wasn't expecting her to let this slide, and I'm glad that I didn't. Being a realist has its perks, but still. _Why?_ ''Jameson has always been more motivated to be in the political matters of District One. Really, he'd make a great mayor, if you ask me. We just went our separate ways, that's all.''

''And is he supportive of your decision to volunteer?''

'' _No!_ Why the hell would he be—'' I stop myself before I can continue any further, backpedaling from my previous answer. _Stop being so impulsive! Answer calmly, dammit._ ''Of course he is! Why wouldn't he be? Our connection is extremely tight, and no matter what I decide to do with my life, he's always right by my side.''

Nodding her head, Addison holds out her hand for me to shake, and I take it tenderly. Despite her frequent attempts at making me feel vulnerable, I don't allow her to get into my skin and make me break down.

I can't let them know that everything I said was false. If they were to find out about my parents pushing me to do this, I wouldn't be able to explain my wanting of affection. They'd think of me as some insignificant, jealous girl who's always been in the shadow of her brother.

And in truth, that's all I really am.

''Aurora Maran, everybody!''

Even as the clapping commences, I still feel as though I'm going to tumble to the ground. Making it off stage and being ushered forward by a Peacekeeper, I run in my heels and wait on the other side.

How could I ever be so dumb? Why had our plan been so reasonable this morning but ended up having many flaws when _one_ woman decided to question me? As my mind spins in its usual carousel of reasons why I'll never become anyone great, I shake my head with regret.

Next time, it'd be better to avoid the trouble. That is, even if there even _is_ a next time.

* * *

 **Lucretia Hanover, District Six**

* * *

''These Games are simply a way to get out of a loveless life,'' Aether says, standing up in his flower-printed, gold-encrusted, long-sleeved blazer. ''My existence is bitter, but hopefully things will change.''

Addison nods her head with a sympathetic look on her face, but that bitch is so fake. She's absolutely beautiful, though, and her luxurious lifestyle must be quite fabulous. She and I would make good friends, unlike these peasants behind me.

 _What type of bitter life was Aether talking about?_ He lived in District One, for fuck's sake. Surely he was rich. Maybe he's simply ungrateful.

''Can you not breathe down my fucking neck, you disgusting pig?''

Lachlan looks at me uncomfortably, and then he states, ''I'm three feet behind you. How am I breathing down your neck?''

''Your presence is what makes me despise you the most. Why can't you just die already? Six doesn't need you to be their Victor when I can take over that spot easily.''

Ignoring his comeback and paying attention to the interview ahead, I watch as the audience claps for Camille Lussier. Yeah, I missed her interview, but I assume that it went splendid. Although, I did hear her mention that she's doing this for herself. _Selfish much?_

I mean, I'm selfish, but it's different.

''It sucks, doesn't it? That your brother, who was so talented, so benevolent, fell at the hands of a tribute from Seven,'' Addison continues the interview with Cassian, entering what I suppose is forbidden territory by the look on his face. ''You're so sophomoric, but he was mature and sensible. It's a shame how raffish and recreant he became later on in the Games. Really, he turned into a joke once the final five came into view, and it was quite hilarious when he stumbled and fell over—''

Without saying a word, Cassian grabs the cloudy, chlorinated glass cup of water that sits on the flower table right in front of Addison. With a sudden burst of fury, he splashes the liquid all over her and slams the expensive beaker-shaped, drained item against the floor, causing it to crack and spread out.

''Don't you dare say anything negative about my brother _ever_ again,'' he asserts. ''You have no right to be talking. Have you ever been in the Games? Did you go through what he did? Did you watch your allies get their heads split open and get ravaged by mutts?! No. So shut the fuck up. You act like it's easy, going up against twenty-three other tributes and being targeted by the gamemakers, but you've never been in an arena, and you _never_ will. Next time you wanna criticize someone who's dead, make sure that you know exactly what they went through and what they did wrong. Until then, shut your mouth and do what you're supposed to do: interview people and not express your meaningless opinions!''

A collective gasp comes from the audience, and when Cassian storms off to the other side of the stage, I squint my eyes to make out what's going on over there. Camille's lecturing him, and Aurora has her hands pressed against her head in surprise.

''All right, then.'' Addison almost twitches, but she composes herself before anything can happen. She rings some of the water out of her hair, but there's no place for her to wipe her hands on. Seemingly frustrated and upset, she calls out Chayona.

 _Ugh, great._ ''The unimportant, stuttering mess of a girl is next. It's literally gonna be three minutes of her just st-st-st-stating how upset she is. _What a fucking waste of space_.''

In front of me, Sota laughs silently and asks Odessa if she heard what I said. She minds him no attention, though, and remains as cold as ever. ''That was kinda funny. Nice joke,'' he compliments, facing me.

''Well, you know me,'' I playfully tease, gaining another grin from the boy.

''Is there anything that you'd like to say to your family and friends?'' Addison questions, actually sounding like she genuinely cares for the girl.

Honestly, none of what she's saying is important. All I can help but notice is her stunning two-piece sequined gown. I used to have one exactly like it back at home. Oh, how I miss wearing it around the streets of my District, flaunting my opulence and wealth.

''We've been through b-bumpy roads, but I-I'm gonna fight so that w-we can make up for all of the past p-problems that we've had. Really, I mean that...''

 _...What happened to the pessimism that she once carried?_ Long before today, I swear I overheard her murmuring to herself, saying something about how she'll never be as good as her sisters and how useless she is to everyone.

And really, she _is_ useless! What could she ever provide to the more salient people such as myself and the Careers? Absolutely nothing! She looks beautiful because people of higher power are helping _her_ ; it's not the other way around. _Dumb bitch._

Up next is Gideon, and oh, my, he looks like a model. Seriously, I _wish_ he wasn't from Three. If his lifestyle was as lavish as mine, he and I would be something special. This just isn't our time, I suppose. It would have been much better if he were reaped next year, after my victory, and then became Victor himself.

Peoples' eyes would open at every appearance that we would make. He's so private, though, so I can't tell much about him. Nothing other than the fact that he's got that tan skin look going on, and his dark eyes make me a bit weak at my knees. His slim, muscular figure with that almost perfectly symmetrical face of his is gorgeous, but...

 _...He's obviously poor! No rich man would ever be so reserved._

''Any allies? With the training score of a _six_ , especially coming from a District like your own, isn't that enough to turn a few heads?''

''No, not really. I've denied every alliance invitation that I've received so far, but only because I don't feel comfortable around others that I'm unsure of.''

Placing her wet hands on his knees, Addison asks, ''Do you feel comfortable around me?''

Gideon's bottom lip tugs violently, as if some sort of distant memory just passed through his mind. He looks uncomfortable, but he forces on a sexy smile and coughs out, ''Of course.''

Raising an eyebrow, I can't help but feel tension in the air. It's not good, either.

Why'd the dumb hoe have to go and ruin a beautiful moment?

* * *

 **Condor Teal, District Seven**

* * *

Crossing one leg over the other, Addison wonders, ''Did you volunteer because you could, or is there a bigger meaning behind your resolve?''

Odessa lowers her gaze, almost as if the topic at matter is sensitive to her, but she also looks ferocious. ''What do you mean?''

''I was just wondering if you were doing this for your family, by chance,'' Addison says, sounding innocent.

''That's not something I usually talk about.'' Scratching the back of her head, Odessa shrugs and looks away, pulling down the end of her dress in nervousness. ''But I can tell you that I volunteered for something important. That's all.''

Odessa's interview ends well, and up next is Sota. _Why is she being so personal this year?_ Something's up, and I don't understand why she's acting so insensitive.

What's the point of her asking things that aren't related to the Hunger Games? Does she know about our lives back at home? Or even our histories? Really, I wouldn't put it past her if so. She has to know how easy it is to manipulate the truth out of us, and if we don't follow, it could lead to bad decisions being made on partial evidence of our lies.

This isn't just an entertainment thing, and it certainly doesn't have anything to do with money issues. We're all just sitting puppets under her strings, being displayed in front of the media and advertisers like nothing more than mere play toys.

And by the end of Sota's interview, I realize that to be true. The Capitol loves him – they look as if they're under his favor, but is that true? He's under _their_ favor of providing pleasure – we _all_ are. So, in the end, how we respond to her questions determine so much. _As if our lives weren't already in their hands, whatever impact we leave in the arena hits our families, too!_

''Imogen, darling, I must say that I absolutely _adore_ your dress,'' Addison proclaims, although her golden eyes indicate something else. ''But the ends look like beef curtains. Was that supposed to be on purpose?''

Taking it like a champ, Imogen simply shrugs and smiles at Addison's insult. Even as the audience is laughing at her in mocking fashion, she doesn't let the embarrassment phase her. Addison is tearing at her contrast panel-printed dress, and she even cracks a few jokes on her milkmaid braid.

I'm never one to focus on another person's looks, but Imogen is _stunning_. Besides, isn't she technically making fun of her fellow Capitolites, seeing as some of them are stylists?

''I've been trash talked by many. Hated by some, as well,'' Imogen informs, standing up from her seat like she determines when her interview is over. ''You've been adding to the mix all night long, but guess how many fucks I give? Baby, it's less than one.''

She walks to the front of the stage and bows, blowing a few kisses to the audience when she pops back up. Their laughter is something I never expected. _Since when did they have a sense of humor?_ An elderly lady sitting at the front is coughing all over herself, her face painted red, but the smile that she carries is as plain as day.

''Well... What a _lovely_ young lady, wouldn't you say?'' Seemingly, Addison didn't expect for the audience to actually agree with her rhetoric question. An abrupt twitch occurs in her left eye, but she's quick to call out the next tribute. ''Up next is Imogen's charming ally, Sebastian Hammond!''

Throughout the entire conversation between the two, Sebastian stares at her with an uninterested, scrutinizing glare, answering questions without much thought and with harsh sarcasm. ''Does it look like I'm excited to you? Tomorrow could be the last day of my life and you ask me that? Shut up.''

Again, he goes quiet. Minutes pass by before Lucretia takes the stage, and she acts like she's part of the Capitol – by the way that she fits in so well, you could actually mistake her for one of them if it weren't for her natural looks.

''Ms. Chevel, I have no doubt that I _will_ come out alive. The Careers and I have big plans coming, but like the rules state, only _one_ person wins. As an early preparation for my ceremony, I assure you beautiful people that _I_ will be your newest Victor!''

''She sure knows how to ride their coattails, huh?'' I overhear Natalie whisper to herself. The guard in front of us heard her, too, but he doesn't say anything.

''You're telling me,'' I start, grabbing her attention. ''If that's all it really takes to gain sponsors, then it should be easy.''

''Right?'' Now that I come to think of it, this is the most that Natalie and I have ever really said to each other. _But I wish we had more interactions. She's never been as open as I would have liked._ ''Maybe we should try that. We'd—'' she stops.

 _We?_ ''Yeah, _we'd_ have a nice advantage, don't you think?''

I nod my head when she finishes, smiling kindly and paying attention to the stage. Lachlan walks off, designating Natalie's turn. ''Good look,'' I say when her name is called. But... her words linger in my mind.

We're not allies, and any chance of that happening is slim to none now. I guess that we would have an upper hand, but definitely not together. And, if you think about it, if the both of us recited similar strategies – despite us already knowing our game plans with the help of our mentors and stylists – and _aren't_ together in the arena, things could look suspicious. _Would that lead the gamemakers to bringing us together for a fight, as if it were some sort of District conflict?_

''I believe that I am ready for these Games,'' Natalie decides to say after pondering silently to herself, grinning confidently. She's always held her tongue – always watched what she said – ever since we were reaped, and even now, she still does. ''But remember these words: Whatever goes around, comes around...''

''Huh?'' Addison puzzles. ''What... What does that mean?''

Nobody understands what she refers to by that, but I _think_ that I perceive what she's saying. A small titter, coming from me, ripples across the otherwise silent room.

 _Was that a hint of an upcoming insurgency, Natalie?_

* * *

 **Darren Leicester, District Eight**

* * *

When that Natalie girl exits the stage, Condor replaces her spot. In front of me, Eloise looks a bit nervous.

''Hey,'' I say, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looks at me with big eyes, almost puppy dog-like. ''Don't be scared. You'll do well.''

She nods her head, and I expect something to come out of her mouth, but she remains quiet. She's been fairly distant recently, and I don't know whether or not if she's still thinking about what happened with the Career yesterday, but she should know that I'm always by her side no matter what occurs...

''Wow, you're so handsome,'' Addison flirts, placing a hand on Condor's cheek. The boy goes stiff instantly, like he's never been touched by a girl before. ''Aw, look at how red your face is getting! I could just kiss you.''

''Please stop...''

''What, am I making you nervous? Is it bad that I find you attractive?'' she asks, teasing him even more. Condor apparently doesn't know how to handle the situation, though. ''I hope you make it out alive, because I'd eat you right up if I could... And if you do emerge as Victor, I won't be able to hold myself back!''

''Stop it!'' Condor yells, standing up and marching away. Right before he exits the stage, he turns around and mouths her off. ''There's much more than looks to a person, you know? Stop being so demeaning, you inconsiderate ass! You're here to interview me, not flirt! You're disgusting...''

Coughing as the audience _oohs_ in unison, Addison rubs her eyes and sighs in mortification. Fixing her posture and forcing her breath to move steadily, she calls out Eloise.

''Up next, reigning all the way from District Eight, I introduce you all to the endearing Eloise Allegro!''

She walks up to the stage in her royal blue mini dress, flashes of crystal blue stripes popping up every now and then when the brightness hits her, searing into everyone's retinas. The lights, in my opinion, rival the sun itself, forcing me to squint my eyes.

Her patent leather, dark nude heels click loudly against the floor, her posture proper and her attitude morally sound – and it's like she's back to the original person that she was, now boisterous and cheerful as soon as Addison begins.

''How do you feel about your odds, Eloise?''

''I think that they're good, to be honest with you,'' she says, flashing a toothy grin at everyone. Her confidence is contagious; _this_ is the girl that I know. ''Me and Darren can hold our own together, so—''

''What makes you think that you and your ally can do anything?'' Addison blurts out, interrupting her. ''I don't mean to be rude or anything, but with the Careers and all the other alliances roaming around, what possibility do you two have at reaching it far together? It makes no sense to me.''

''We just have the heart and passion,'' Eloise answers. ''You may not notice it, but we look out for each other and—''

''What if you're forced to betray one another, though?''

''We'll _never_ betray one another!'' she declares, and just like that, a smile spreads across my face. _Atta girl._ ''Careers might betray each other, other allies might betray each other, but me and Darren... We've just got a bond th—''

''A bond that could be broken if one of you dies?''

''Shut up!'' Obviously feeling attacked, Eloise frets a little bit and lashes out at Addison with words. ''You keep trying to force the wrong thing out of my mouth and make it seem as if we're vulnerable and easy to fuck with, but we're not! Stop being such an asshole and be nice for once! I'm seriously _so_ tired of you... I don't see any penises in the general vicinity, so I'm wondering why you keep opening your fucking mouth and saying all this bullshit that you do!''

Eloise's interview ends early, and like nothing ever happened, Addison calls me out next. Clenching my fists, I stand still until the security guard shoves me. I keep watch of Addison's fake smile remaining on me, my heart hammering in my chest, but I keep my gait casual with no hesitance.

Sitting down on the couch across from her, I peer over to the other side of the stage and make eye-contact with Eloise. She cries silently as if her brain is being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flows from her every pore, and from her mouth comes a barely audible cry that makes me feel... weak on the inside.

I grab onto the couch arm so that my violent shaking doesn't cause me to smack Addison across the face, so that I don't attack some idiotic, random Capitolite in the audience.

''Darren, it's finally nice to speak to you one-on-one. Out of all the tributes in this year's Games, you've been one of the most interesting from your reaping to your training score.'' She talks, but I'm not listening. It's as if she believes that I actually care about what she's saying, and I can't _stand_ that. ''I hope that you're different from your partner over there... What a mess, am I right?''

I've never felt so much rage as when pushed into passivity against my will. That's what they expect from us tributes, though, to be kind and loving when they're putting our lives at risk..! Show your anger and they'll drug you into compliance. _It's the only emotion you aren't allowed to show..._

''But, then again, you two do come from a poorer District, so it's not surprising that she has no manners. Unlike you, though, correct? Because you know—''

''Addison, shut the fuck up! You keep looking down on us tributes and expect for us to not say anything back, and I'm tired of it! You act like you're so perfect, but everything about you is fake – your ass is fake, your tits are fake, your personality is fake, your teeth are fake..! I can't deal with you anymore. Everything that you've said today has been so rude, and how people can enjoy this is so fucking ridiculous. Seriously, it raises a question mark! Don't ever fuck with someone like me – I'm not gonna take it like a little bitch and _not_ stand up to you like it doesn't phase me!''

Turning to face the audience, I point out at all of them, and just like that, they shrink under my gaze. ''None of you are any better than her. I bet this is a surprise to you, isn't it? You've never been used to 'normal' people who express their anger because you're all freaks! You guys have all the designer labels in your closets, but it's still not a good enough substitute to detract the attention from your hideous personalities on the inside and out!''

Coming to an end, I slow down a little bit. For a few moments, I see small bits of compassion in some of their eyes, but it's gone in an instant. People like me don't receive love from people like them.

Whipping around to face Addison, I raise my hand in the air in a mock-gesture to slap the shit out of her, but she cowers and shrieks under my stature. Around me, I can hear the shifting of Peacekeepers and guards, ready to intervene if I dare let it go.

''Fuck you, bitch.'' Lowering my hand, I simply stick out my middle finger and utter, ''I hope your fucking house burns down and you get bombed. ...Suck my dick, you snobbish whore.''

* * *

 **Aaliyah Ransier, District Eleven**

* * *

 _...Can I be as open and honest as the rest have been?_

What makes me scared the most is that I might accidentally snap at her if the wrong question is asked – if she brings up my past, or even Aedan...

 _You're always being judged, whether you accept it or not. First, the District, and now the Capitol. But what's new?_

Both of Nine's tributes finish their interviews soundly, the girl crying over herself and speaking about some sort of curse, while the boy was calm but came off as aggressive – as if something terrible happened to him in the past twenty-four hours.

''Up next, please help me give a lovely welcoming hand to the adorable Gracie Sullivan of District Ten!''

The girl walks up so convincingly, so happily, like she doesn't understand that she could be _dead_ come tomorrow afternoon. Her and Addison start speaking, but it's honestly more of a one-sided conversation. Addison asks all the questions, but the girl spews out random facts about horses.

''Honey, those answers have nothing to do with our interview,'' Addison giggles. ''Come on, stop being so defiant. It's almost as if something's wrong with your head.''

''Well, my daddy always told me that I was _special_ ,'' the girl answers. Addison's face turns pale, and just like that, she ends the interview and calls up the girl's district partner.

 _With all the personal questions she's been asking, it's likely that she'll inquire about Mom, Dad, and the murders. Fuck..!_

Looking back up at the television screen plastered on the wall, I realize how much I've missed of Mackenzie's interview. The boy is now on top of Addison with a shard of glass in his hands – but how?

''How would _you_ feel if _you_ knew that _you'd_ never see _your_ mother ever again?!'' Screaming at the top of his lungs, he's forcefully restrained from the Capitol star. Her state of mind isn't deterred one bit, though, and I can only _wish_ to have the same amount of equanimity as she does.

But then it hits me. _I'm next..._

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Addison curses silently to herself, probably wishing for the absolute worst things to happen to everyone who's showed detestation to her and the Capitol so far.

''Hopefully this next interview goes well... From the depths of District Eleven,'' she starts, but that word ' _depths_ ' sticks out to me, ''please help me give a hand to the riveting Aaliyah Ransier!''

 _Riveting? No, no..! Don't you dare try to make me seem like more than I actually am, you judging..._

The man in front ushers me up to the stage, and as I walk forward, I can't help but peer up at the gigantic television overhead. On my face is a bored deadpan, yet only I can tell how frightened I actually am on the inside.

''Aaliyah,'' she says when I take a seat, her corporate smile being the most clear feature thus far. And I know that it's fake because so is my own. I smiled for eight hours today, seeing as it was a requirement for this moment. _You should leave your face neutral and let your mouth lie in a thin, morbid line so that your cheeks can rest._ ''Are you excited for tomorrow?''

 _...Huh?_

Squeezing my knees, I cross my legs together, trying to get myself situated. Under my crystal-embellised wing sandals are the remaining glass shards that weren't cleaned up from Cassian's interview, and a crack reverberates from beneath me.

 _Look weaker than you actually are._ ''No... not really.'' _And you're not, but in the arena, you'll surprise them and emerge as a new person. You're dedicated to this, girl._ ''But I'm gonna do my best to succeed, of course.''

That receives a few claps and whistles, but Addison's not done yet, of course. ''That's strange,'' she snorts. ''I thought that you'd be used to murder.'' _Addison, don't!_ ''Especially since your brother, Aedan, I believe his name is, is a murderer. He burned down houses, from what I was told. Aren't you the same?''

''W-W-What..?'' I stammer, feeling like nothing's changed. _Just like before... I'm compared to him! Wherever he is, he's probably shocked, but what about Jasper and Dad? Are they surprised? Maybe they're happy – they've both hated me since..._ ''No, I'm _different!_ ''

''Oh, please,'' she knocks away the truth. ''Don't tell us that someone with such a horrific background like you _isn't_ prepared to kill. Is this a strategy, for you to act weak and then cause mayhem once you enter the arena? If so, that's a wonderful master plan, honey. Would you mind sharing how you'll kill? Or, are you just going to use your brother's methods and give us a nice show?''

 _And that's why. That's why I act pessimistic around others, why I avoid all connections with new people. No matter how hard I try to initiate a conversation or a friendship, it's always debunked by the mention of my brothers' names._

Gripping tightly onto the thighs of my jaguar-coated dress, feeling the specks, I slip my hands casually down from my knees to my ankles and then come back up. ''I knew that you were always a bad person. Before even coming up onstage, I told myself that you'd ask some fucked up questions that would screw me over, and look at that, I was _right!_ ''

''Excuse me?''

My hate for her burns in my heart, so deep that it's ingrained in the tissue. I've always been adept at hiding my broken insides, but the frustration is too much to seal now.

''You're horrible! Why do you even do this to us? My life was already bad enough, but then you added the worst punishment that I could ever receive to it. And, Addison, I don't know what your issue with us is, or why you keep asking these deep questions, but you need to get your shit straight. Because I'm done, and everyone else is done, too!''

When she opens up her mouth to say something, I connect my hand with her cheek, and the entire room goes silent. Everyone looks at me – the audience, the tributes who've finished their interviews, the tributes who still have to go, and the entirety of Panem – as if I did something wrong...

 _I'm the center of attention now – the exact thing that I didn't want to be._

Staring down at her, I almost laugh when I see the giant hand print on her face. Even though I know that there'll be serious consequences – even though I _know_ that I shouldn't have done the first thing to pop into my mind – I can't help but feel... electrified.

'' _That's_ how I really feel.''

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! Honestly, it's felt like forever since I've updated this story. Like I said last chapter, I'm really trying to enjoy my summer, and so far, it's been great. I hope that you're all enjoying your summer, too, if you're also on break. If not, keep goin', you're almost there. Anyway, I know that I said that I'd only have one chapter with six POVs, but this one had to have six. The thing with me and my chapters is that I write fast-paced, and I don't know whether people enjoy that or not, but it's just my preferred and natural style. I hope that it's not a problem, but those of you who've been here for a while know how I am with interviews. I don't like them very much, and writing them is a pain, especially because I wanna give everyone the spotlight for their questions and stuff, but then again, the person with the POV deserves to have their feelings and opinions expressed. And when I'm trying to maintain each POV equally, it's hard. Which is why from Malik to Pavel, nobody else was shown. I'm sorry for that, to their creators, but I wasn't gonna continue with an extra two POVs. I really just couldn't - and I _wouldn't_ , either.  
**

 **Basically, for a summary, Malik was asked about his ally and his game plan, Helena was questioned about the disease in District Twelve and how her family life is, Aspen attempted to flirt and was embarrassed, also getting angry, Krissy's training score was brought up, and Pavel praised the Capitol for their soldiers and said that he'd have a chance at becoming one himself if he were to win. So yeah, just try to imagine that, if you can. It probably won't go the same way to you guys as I planned it, but it's good enough. So Launch is next chapter, and then we're officially done with the second group. I think the last ones remaining are Aether, Sota, Imogen, Natalie, Gracie, Aspen, Malik and Pavel, and I've already got everything sorted out for that specific chapter, so I'll try to get their POVs done as quick as possible. With basketball going on, and an online class and recreational fun, it's not too hard to find time for everything, but still, priorities, you know.**

 **Also, the poll results are up on my profile. Congratulations to Gideon for winning it, but it was pretty close. I think Imogen was behind by one vote, and then everyone else was back-to-back, too. I'm a bit surprised, though, because Chayona didn't receive a single vote, and a lot of you were gushing on about how good she was or whatever. Y'all got me thinking now. Hmm. Anyway, it's all good, though. I'm surprised that some of you voters didn't go for your own tributes, but idk. But like I said, the poll votes don't really mean anything. Someone with one vote could end up winning, but we'll see. Anyway, questions.**

* * *

 **Opinions on the POVs?  
**

 **Who's interview was your favorite?**

 **What'd you like best about the chapter?**

 **You're a tribute in the Games, and Addison brings up some extra personal shit that you're uncomfortable with. She eggs it on and attempts to force a reaction out of you, but it's starting to get annoying and extremely rude. What's your reaction?**

* * *

 **All right, that's really it for this chapter. Thank you for reading, and y'all got me to a hunnid reviews. Thanks! ;) This is the most aggressive chapter for an interview that I've ever written out of all my stories. All the anger was so clear, and it worked, imo. Just remember that this is only the start, and things are gonna be changing real quick. A bit of development here, a bit of heartbreak there, etc. Anyway, see y'all next chapter, and have a wonderful day/night/whatever time it is for you. See ya! ^-^  
**


	11. Takeoff

**Launch:**

* * *

 _Regulate my area, the terror I represent,  
Makin' yo' people disappear, you wonderin' where they went?  
Am I cold, or is it I just sold my soul?  
Addicted to these streets, never find true peace, I'm told._

* * *

 **Imogen Pryor, District Five**

* * *

I stare into the high-priced mirror, watching the glass quietly. All I can tell from my reflection is that yesterday's braid is nothing more than a bird's nest now. I suppose it could have happened when I stayed up all night, trying my very best to figure out what the arena could be – but it was to no avail.

Despite all the mathematical equations and scientific theories that I used, nothing added up. The books in the training center spoke about war, inequality, justice, and activism, but what's the reasoning behind all that, if not for another rebellion-type arena? _They've done it before, they couldn't possibly do it again._

My hair's tumbled like a beached kelp after a storm, ruffled up, and certainly not in a way you'd expect from someone who was just interviewed in front of national television last night. Not saying a word, I remain lying on the bed, desperately craving sleep but being unable to find it, laying my hand over my shoulder and drawing a silent breath.

A knock comes from my door, and just like that, my eyes snap open once more. ''What?'' I groan. Opening up the door, Jonah enters into my room, a frown on his face. ''...You okay?''

''Yeah, I'm fine. But are _you_ okay?'' he asks.

''Why wouldn't I be okay? It's not like—'' _Oh, shit, today's the Bloodbath!_ ''Oh, my God. What time is it? Do we need to get out of here?''

''Yeah, it's—'' Jonah quickly stops talking, tripping over my blanket and falling to the floor. ''Imogen, what the hell is this room?''

Surveying the area, I almost laugh. Obviously he doesn't want to hear about it, but he asked, so I'm gonna answer. ''Well, you see, I was attempting to figure out what the arena was. Did you know that they had books out in the open in the training center, and not a single person other than Chayona and I decided to read them? Anyway, after trying time and time again, I just _couldn't_ figure out what it was, so I threw a couple of things. But we'll find out today, I suppose. And if it's something that's easily conspicuous, I'm gonna be upset. Because how in the world does something so simple, yet _so_ mystifying at the same, slip through my—''

''Imogen... Okay, calm down.'' Realizing just how frustrated I've become over simply _speaking_ about my failed endeavor, I let go of my clenched fists, allowing my blood to flow smoothly once more, and rather breathe into the palm of my hands. ''Listen, I know that you're upset, but we have to focus – _you_ have to focus.''

Nodding my head, I hop up out of my bed and stride towards the bathroom. My footsteps barely make any noise as I step over the pillows that I tossed on the ground last night, making as much sound as a thready pulse.

As I brush my teeth, I listen to what Jonah has to say. A final bit of advice, if you will. ''You've been eating a lot, right?''

Spitting out the toothpaste, I answer with, ''Yes, of course. I don't know if it's noticeable or not, but I've definitely gained a few pounds – and I've been feeling pretty full for the past three days.''

''Good, you followed the first set of rules that I gave you. That makes me happy to hear,'' he chuckles. ''You know why I asked you to feast, right?''

''Because—'' I wash my mouth, taking one of the fresh mints that the Capitol has displayed out in these beautiful trays. ''—I don't know what the arena... will be like, so if it's not in anyone's favor, there could be little to no food.''

With a small clap, he pats me on my shoulders when I come back outside. ''Precisely. Normally, depending on how much stress your body went through during training, you've been burning from around two-thousand to two thousand four hundred calories each day, but in the arena, it can be assumed that you're gonna be expending far more than that, meaning—''

''Meaning that I'm gonna want – no, _need_ – to have some spare body mass, and that would significantly increase my odds of survival, right?'' He nods his head accordingly. Doing a little bit of quick math in my head, I come to the conclusions that, ''Putting on at least five pounds of fat gives me well over fifteen extra thousand calories to survive on, and eight days before my body begins to shut down from starvation.''

''Which is, in most Games, how long they usually last. So say that these Games last sixteen days, you're halfway there already, if you can fight off the mutts and avoid other tributes.''

Jonah and I have been close for a while now, and he's been almost like a second father-figure to me. He holds his hand in the air for a high five, but I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his body. Burying my face in his shoulder, I barely hold back my tears, choking out, ''I'm gonna miss you.''

His face is tight, every thought in his mind focusing on masking his fears – and his eyes dim. He hugs me back firmly, his arms resembling shields of love and a friendly bond that ended too soon. When we finally part, he suggests, ''Come on, we gotta get up to the rooftops for launch.''

We get out into the living room of our suite, and when I see that neither Sebastian nor Kelsin are here, I presume that they've already left. ''How do you think Kelsin feels?'' I ask as soon as we enter the elevator.

''She's taking it hard. Ever since I won five years ago, she's felt as if her duties of bringing back another tribute have become even more monumental. The fact that Sebastian's twelve – the same age that she was when she won – it's gotta hurt her. The little kids tear her up every year, so I wouldn't be surprised if she was balling her eyes out as we speak.''

The silence caresses my skin like a cool summer breeze, smoothing my soul, and taking away my jagged edges. ''It's been one hell of a week,'' I laugh, rubbing my hands through the tangled curls in my hair.

Lying against the wall and closing my eyes, I listen intently as Jonah says, ''Don't worry, your stylists will get you all fixed up once we get you to the launch room. We just gotta—''

''Nope!'' I shout, bumping into Jonah and rubbing my hands over every single button on the elevator panel. ''You thought, fam. We're gonna enjoy this ride!''

Jonah shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. He wants to be upset and tell me that we should really hurry up before the aircraft departs, but he laughs instead. ''You're really something else.''

Crossing my arms over my chest, I natter, ''You already know.''

* * *

 **Pavel Elsbeth, District Thirteen**

* * *

The thin clothes on my back blow like flags in the wind and clouds race by fast – like the vehicles that travel at immense speeds below. Although the winds are only coming from the aircraft propellers, today's still not a day to wear loose hats or hold umbrellas.

It sounds its mighty roar of gusty winds, making everyone that's surrounded stand in fear. Even leaves – that are on top of the hotel's roof, for some odd reason – flee in terror.

I raise a diminutive hand to the brilliant sun rays. After being trapped inside for three days, my retinas are unaccustomed to the outside view. Looking around, I watch as the tributes all begin to speak with their mentors and escorts, saying their final goodbyes. There are all types of reactions.

Some kids are cocky – _wow, bet you can't guess who they are_ – most look horrified but are doing their best to contain their emotions, and others have tears in their eyes. I find Mackenzie speaking to his mentor, and a slight dab of water streams down from his cheek and lands on the ground. Internally, I can feel my heart sink.

All around, there are Peacekeepers lined up in every corner, at least five of them stationed in each area. Tienya nears both Krissy and I as we remain silent, and she places her soft hands on each of our shoulders. She begins speaking, but I ignore her and simply focus on my environment.

The soft whispering of leaves are my current lullaby throughout today's events, becoming a fierce rustling, loud enough to drown out the chorus of the birds and chatty people.

 _Why can't I be one of those Peacekeepers? All they've been told to do is stand around and make sure that nothing goes south._ I'm being told to kill other kids, but that's against the law. Throughout a regular day, this would be extremely frowned upon and lead to being imprisoned or executed.

I'd rather be a Peacekeeper and _then_ be told so. If a person were to steal or outright defy the Capitol and I was told to execute them, then I would, because that's the _law. This_ isn't – it's merely a form of entertainment.

''...the Careers, honey. You can't keep putting this decision off, because sooner or later, one of them is going to approach you and ask, and when they do, Pavel will be curious an—''

''What are you guys talking about?'' I question, suddenly feeling like something's being held back from me. _Why is Tienya speaking to Krissy about the Careers?_ ''What decision are you putting off?''

''N-Nothing, Pavel,'' Krissy tries, but I shake my head.

''Don't lie to me – if there's something that I need to hear, I would prefer that you tell me now rather than leave me hanging in the arena.''

She attempts to deny it furthermore, but Tienya sighs and insists that it'd be better if she let out the truth. But before she can even open up her mouth, the Four boy walks up to us and calls out, ''Hey, Krissy! So what's the deal? Are we still on? Like, we need an answer _now_.''

She nods her head furiously, stuttering over her words when she says, ''Y-Yeah. Our plan's a g-go. Just give me some time, okay?'' I see her look at me from her peripheral vision. ''I'll catch up with you guys l-later. Just let me finish...''

Crossing her legs together, Krissy gazes at Tienya, who shrugs her shoulders. They both stare at me with a look of shock on their faces. Now that I think about it, they've been speaking without me for a while now. I toy with the possibility of her not wanting to be in this alliance anymore, but before I can blast it, she interrupts me.

''I know what you're thinking, and _no_ , I'm not leaving you for the Careers.'' Tienya's eyes widen, telling me all that I need to know. ''Believe me!''

''Yeah, right. You've made this whole situation more difficult than it had to be, you know? I'm debating whether or not I can even trust you anymore.''

''Pavel...''

''No, it's okay. If you wanna slither with the snakes, then you can go 'head,'' I encourage. ''Just know that I keep a pedicured lawn so that all the toxic animals around me will be dead.''

With that, I turn away as soon as a mechanical voice begins. _''Tributes!_ '' It calls out. _''We will be departing shortly. Please finish up your conversations and line up by District order in girl-boy fashion. All of you will be boarding the hovercraft in two minutes.''_

It's fine if she leaves... I can take care of Mackenzie and Sebastian by myself. _Please don't, though,_ I want to say, but... The odds just aren't ever in my favor. No matter how hard I've worked in school, I've continued to struggle. Despite how much I've tried to stray my family away from a horrible situation, Solon's still a criminal, Asim's still tortured by his classmates, and Omid's still too innocent to live in such a malicious world.

 _But if I win..._

It makes me so angry thinking about my whore of a mother, knowing that _she's_ the reason why we're all struggling. Why is prostitution the only way to benefit us and keep us alive? Why did she even _have_ kids if she knew that she couldn't protect them?

But these children... Mackenzie and Sebastian – what happens if they die?

The feeling of worry sinks into my mind, and standing in this line isn't the way to get rid of it. It's boring to wait as everyone enters the hovercraft, and I can only look forward. My stare isn't meant to be cold; it's just that my face lacks mobility, but I can't tell the Peacekeepers that.

 _They're staring at me._ Slightly, I walk off to the side. Everyone in the line shifts their gazes toward me, and just like that, chaos erupts before it honestly should.

''Hey!'' I hear a Peacekeeper call out, and suddenly I'm swarmed by three of them. They tackle me to the floor, restraining me from moving my body, and scream in my ear. ''Suicide attempt! I repeat: we have a suicide attempt!''

Peering up, I realize just how close I am to the propeller blades and internally cringe.

There are screams coming from behind me, and I can only think about just how close my life was to ending.

But none of this was part of any intentions that I had planned. I just needed _something_ to get my mind off of things, that's all...

* * *

 **Aspen Northill, District Twelve**

* * *

In the inkiness that my mind supplies, demons, both real and fictitious, linger around. They remind me of the deadliness that's both near and distant, demanding that I slice the time between now and then with just a few minutes of sleep. But I can't, because no matter how hard I try, the thinner portions of my mind won't allow me to rest.

I was awake last night for over ten hours, simply sitting on the Capitol bed and staring out the window. Unfortunately, the city never sleeps, and in spite of what time it was, people were out partying, celebrating, and drinking. Why? _Because of today, of course._

Insomnia always haunts my nights; and then fatigue rules my days. When I need to be lucid and clear, my brain begs for unconsciousness, for sleep at any price. And just like that, I drift back into consciousness after only seconds of rest.

The entire hovercraft is still, nobody making a single sound, and I'm thankful of that. Really, I am. The world is a blur for me, though, and random images float aimlessly around in the pool of my thoughts.

''Give me your arm.'' _Who is that? Why would someone so carelessly destroy the peace and quiet that everyone deserves in an instance like this?_

A tap on my shoulder momentarily brings me back to the outside world, and I can feel someone trying to look at me, staring me dead in the eyes, but I can't keep focus. ''Give me your arm.''

Forcefully, I throw my upper limb forward. Whatever they plan on doing, they should hurry up, because I allow my heavy head to lay down and retreat into wallowing blackness. But then, something brandishes against my humerus.

With sudden force, a long needle plunges into my bone, the pain spreading throughout my entire right arm. My appendages move as if some inexperienced person is controlling them remotely, and my eyes are wide, glaring right at the female Peacekeeper.

''What was that, Ms.?!''

''A hypodermic needle,'' she answers calmly, preparing to move on to the next tribute. ''I just injected a tracker into your skin so that the gamemakers will know where you're at all times. Including that, certain liquids were infused into your bloodstream for precautionary measures.''

Rubbing my eyes with the inside of my palms, I remove the crust from them and stare forward. _Within an hour, you'll be inside of the arena, and you were sleeping? You needed a needle to wake you up?_

Sighing, I shake my head and gaze forward. Directly in front of me is the District One girl, and when she catches me glimpsing at her, she gives me a genuinely happy smile. I return the act, but it bothers me how delighted she is to be here. Like, what was the point in volunteering for this?

I mean, come on now... She's cute, she's got a great body, and she's from One! How much better can it get for her? If it weren't for the situation at hand, I'd totally try to get with that.

But not in the way that other guys do. I mean, I'd be down to get together; not just hook up.

 _Shut up. This isn't the time for all that. You don't even have allies, and you're thinking about a girl who probably wasn't even aware of your existence until twenty seconds ago!_

Hey, that's kinda funny. I really _don't_ have any allies. My dad would probably expect me to amalgamate with the entire cast of tributes, but look at me – disappointing him yet again. _That doesn't mean I won't miss him, though._ In fact, I miss everyone; Mom, with her kind words and defensive personality, Robin's roughhousing – even if he and I didn't get along – Willow's cheeky nature... Hell, I even miss Alcea's lack of motivation.

I can't forget about my friends, either. Wren's acceptance, and even his awkward bond with my mom, Balsam's kindness, and although I can't stand Parsley and his bullying, his fascination with birds has always been something I've kept my eyes on.

Never had a day gone by in my life where I believed that I'd lose it all, yet here I am.

Maybe it's not too late to make quick friends. To the right of me, the Eleven boy is discussing a plan with his ally.

''How are we gonna make sure that we're safe, though?'' Six asks. ''If the both of us are looking for supplies, then that means we have no-one to seek out intruders. Anyone could sneak up on us, and that might be the end of the line...''

Rising to the chance, I turn my head, and Six makes eye-contact with me. He raises an eyebrow, almost as if he's willing to hear me out.

''I can help you guys,'' I whisper, drawing closer into the conversation myself.

''How, exactly?'' Eleven questions. His voice is very cautious and suspecting, but the look in his eyes tells me that he has hope.

''Well, I can keep an eye out while you guys collect bags and weapons,'' I suggest. ''To be honest, I'm not much of a fighter, and blades don't work well with me. I could be the lookout and supportive character.''

The two of them glance at each other, seemingly coming to an agreement simultaneously. ''What's your name, kid?'' Six asks.

''Aspen.''

''Welcome to the team then, Aspen. By the way, I'm Malik; that's Lachlan.''

''Oh, thank you!'' I nearly yell in excitement. Jumping up, I wrap one of my arms around Malik's shoulder and tell Lachlan to come closer so that I can hug him, too.

''Nope.'' Shaking his head, Lachlan says, ''I'm not really a touchy person. Too affectionate for me.''

 _Dad always said the same thing, but I'm just happy that Lachlan isn't too expectant or judgmental_ – _unlike him._

''Don't worry about it. I'll use these hands to help out our alliance and fight with you guys. Only way to survive in the Games is by touching, whether it's violent or not, so we're playing by the rules without making a fuss.''

 _Momma taught me that._

* * *

 **Aether Cynephris, District One**

* * *

 _Who's going to outshine me now, Mother? Look at the son you disowned and rejected – the boy who's heart you tore apart and threw to the ground._

...Oh, who the hell am I kidding? To her, I'm nothing – she probably doesn't even care that I could die today – to Escalus, I'm simply an obedient dog that he can beat for fun whenever he pleases, but to Gideon... _What am I to him?_

He's always on my mind, never leaving it. If he's not physically in front of me, then he's there mentally. It's just incomprehensible. Why is he always around? I don't know. Something about him is just... captivating. He's like my one stable force – my one stability in a world filled with chaos and I so desperately need him in my life.

The feeling's so strange. It's overwhelming, yet makes me feel complete. There's no bound nor length nor depth; simply, it's absolute. Unlike Escalus, Gideon is someone that I can _trust_. Our want of peace and a perfect life is so clear, yet so impossible to reach at the same time.

When I first boarded the hovercraft, I settled myself away from all the other Careers, somewhere in the corner, ready to indulge myself in a bit of my own thoughts. But then he took a seat next to me, and I've only been thinking of him since.

Exhaling, I silently flop back against my seat, letting my arms rest against my legs. My heart flickers, but I have to be realistic and get my priorities straight or else I'm going to fail. I can't get all caught up in the thought of being with Gideon. _Why would he want someone like you anyway?_

 _With all the beautiful girls around here, who you know have their eyes on him, why would he choose you? What makes you think that you're more attractive than someone like Cassian, or even Sota?_

My heart twists and sinks along with my nerves as I sit still. The gloomy light of the aircraft envelopes me coldly, prompting me to shake violently. My breath comes in sharp pants, and I try to gain control, but nothing works. _It hurts, it hurts!_

Pressing my palms against my temples, I do my best to subdue a yell, but a loud grunt comes from the inside of my mouth. I don't know how many people heard it, but Gideon definitely did.

''You good?'' he asks, not sounding too worried but still curious. _Maybe it's good for him that I'm not okay. One down, right?_

Slowly, the anxiety flows away, but I still shake. ''Perfectly fine. Why do you ask?''

''You sound like you're struggling with something there, guy,'' he broadcasts quietly. ''...Also, I know it's not the time for this, and it's probably too late, but thank you for the tips that you gave me a few days back. Who knows what training score I would've received if it weren't for you.''

''Don't worry about it.''

 _Cast your emotions aside, dammit!_ Looking away from Gideon, I pretend as if nothing he says is of interest to me. Staying around him would potentially make me... happy, but that's nearly impossible.

I haven't experienced happiness in years – and it sounds like some far-off thing that I could only wish I had, but the depression pushes it away and leads me deeper into sadness.

''Hey, you seem upset. I get that I'm not your ally or anything, but if you wanna get something off your chest, I'm down to listen,'' he says. ''You and I are kinda the same. I see that you're not very fond of your alliance – or maybe I have it all wrong and you're just distant – but I could help... I don't know.''

 _I don't want you to help me, I want to leave this stupid world that we live in and find something better. I want everyone who has a horrible life to find happiness. I want this fucked up ass country to grow together and learn to live in perfect harmony. No more war, no more Hunger Games, and no more abandonment... For every kid who's been tossed out by his mother and been replaced, I want them to find someone who cares – not for the pain, but for the love. I want to grow a relationship with you! Not Escalus, but someone like you, who only finds peace in the quiet. To prove all that, I wanna fight with you, ditch my allies and work alongside you, but I can't. I'm not useful, and I never will be – and you probably see me as the weakest link._

 _But you could never let him know that._ Instead of me answering, he continues. ''You know, when I first got here, I didn't think that there'd be anyone I could find who would make me smile. You have, though. I don't talk to many people, but I feel like I might be able to open up to you if need be. It sucks that we have to go after each other's throats now, but hopefully there aren't any hard feelings once we enter the arena.''

 _There won't be,_ I dare to say. ''Yeah. I hope not, either.''

 _Weak! You're weak! Why the hell do you feel something for this boy when you need to kill him in order to live your own life? He needs to die so that you won't be dictated by Escalus anymore!_

My emotional pain seeps out in my own words, and it hurts to hear them – hurts to _think_ them. Sometimes I wonder if people can see the suffering in my eyes, or even the troubles inside me. Sometimes I wonder if I can go on another day. Sometimes I—''

Suddenly, a loud noise comes from underneath the hovercraft, and my mind begins to swirl. _What was that? Why did that noise occur? Are we crashing?!_

No, we can't be crashing.

The Capitol would never let a group of tributes die in such a way.

But then I realize it. W _e're here._ We've arrived to the launch rooms that Gari was talking about, and no matter how unprepared I am, I have to face the fact that _I'm_ here – and there's _no escape._

If I wanna win, I'm gonna have to kill Gideon, Cassian, Odessa, and even Aurora. Every single other tribute in this carrier _has_ to die if _I_ wanna emerge as the Victor.

And that makes me sick.

My stomach contracts so violently that I have no time to stand up or hold it back. Chunks of food from breakfast this morning propel into the air and splatter the wall in front of me. Now falling to my knees, I retch until only clear liquid comes up.

 _How could I ever believe that I was ready for this?_

* * *

 **Sota Shirai, District Four**

* * *

The Peacekeeper next to me ushers me to a room at the end of a single hallway. What soon comes to my mind is the sudden realization that this is the _only_ door, and it's all the way at the end. Labeled on it is _District Four Male_ with a gold star as a plaque.

''A star next to my name, huh?'' Smiling, I stare up at him, placing the palm of my hand against the wall. ''What are the headlines saying about Panem's biggest sensation?''

'''Fizzy Pop's Dumbass Returns to the Capitol in Search of a Meaningless Death', that's what they say. I can't believe you actually came back.''

Pursing my lips, I retort with, ''Bet you won't be finding that title so funny when I blast your Peacekeeper badge number in front of national television, bitch.''

Without further wait, I throw myself into the room and walk in confidently. ''Ursula!'' I exclaim, meeting up with the woman who saved my life.

''Sota, my baby...'' she coos, coming in for a hug. Returning the favor, I grab her tightly and take comfort in her warmth. When I look in her purple orbs, I see a woman who's _scared_. ''I'm glad that it's just you and me now. We have a lot to talk about, but while I go get your arena outfit, ta—''

''Take off my clothes? I already know the drill, honey,'' I say, taking in my surroundings. There's a microwave, a plasma screen television, a bathroom, a few couches, and off to the front of the room is a large tube that just sits there casually. _Wonder what that could be for._ ''But what was it that you wanted to say?''

After standing here for a few seconds, allowing the cool air to trickle against my naked skin, Ursula hands me the assigned clothes. _Oh?_ I put on the lightweight, long-sleeved white shirt and connect the only two buttons, leaving most aspects of my chest exposed. Next, I place a brown cotton vest over the shirt and finish pulling up the khaki pants that they come with.

''Why did you volunteer, Sota?'' she asks, catching me off guard.

Forcing my right foot through the full-grain, rubber lug-soled leather boots, I respond with, ''To rejuvenate my career, of course. Think about it: the confusion of the Capitol and the audience would be enough to place me back on the headlines. A washed-up recording artist entering the Hunger Games to reclaim his former glory... it's brilliant, right?''

''Yeah, but what happens if you _die?_ Sota, the tabloids might be talking about you for a week or so, but if you don't make it out alive, you and your legacy will be forgotten,'' she forces out, tears welling up in the corner of her eyes.

Doing the same thing with my left foot, I question her reasoning for tearing up. ''Don't worry about all that, Ursula. Why are you even crying? You know that nothing bad will happen to me, not while I'm in the arena. These Games practically belong to me, and anyone that stands in the way will only end up having their faces displayed in the sky at night.''

''Stop being so naive, Sota!'' she yells. ''What if the President finds someone else more fit to be a Victor? Do you not remember the scandal that you and Helen had? He might still feel disdain towards you. What makes you think that you're going to cruise right along to the finale?''

Maybe I'm unable to put myself in her shoes, and maybe I don't understand why she's being so paranoid, but I _can_ understand the importance of what she's saying.. ''Don't worry about all that,'' I tell her. ''No matter what that old fart thinks, I'm still the best tribute to ever enter these Games, and I will be for decades to come. Give me some time, and I promise you that you'll see my face again. I swear.''

Wiping her tears away with the heavy sleeves of her coat, she sniffs and says, ''Still as charming as ever, I see. I hate your narcissism, but you sure do know how to convince a woman.''

Her words make me laugh, and then a few seconds of silence goes by. ''Hey, what's that tube sitting there for? Is that where all the junk goes, or what's up?''

''No, that's our bathroom, child,'' she replies, rolling her eyes in a playful way. ''All of our personal excretions go there and are cleaned up immediately.''

''Oh, for real? I thought that the closed door over there was the bathroom. So when you say excretions, you mean like nut? If I bust a fat nut in that tube, it'll disappear as soon as I step out?''

''Sota, no, I was being sarcastic!'' she exclaims. ''My Lord, who gave you such a vocabulary? I mean, I've listened to your music countless of times, but I didn't think you were so gullible and inappropriate.''

I shrug, not being able to form my own words. She looks at me for what seems like an eternity, and although we don't have an uncomfortable relationship, I can't help but be quiet. But this is the final time that I'll speak to her before I return, so I gotta make it count.

''Have you helped any other kids from Four reach the Capitol?''

''Only five since you,'' she answers honestly. ''It's gotten much more difficult with the extra protection that Bengel's added to the Districts. He fears that another attack is being plotted, so I can't travel as frequently as I would like to.''

''Remember how you got me here?'' I laugh. ''I was _so_ scared when you hid me under that dining cart, but I'll never forget the excitement that I felt when we arrived and you adopted me. This beloved city became my home because of you, and there's no possible way that I can ever return that favor.''

''Yes, you can.'' She walks up to me and cuffs my face in her hands, her sparkling nails softly pressing into my cheeks. ''Come back to me _alive_ , my little boy.''

Even as I tower over her, I can't help but blush from the love of my adoptive mother. She's always been there for me, unlike my real parents. Wherever they are right now, I could care less – she's the _only_ authentic person to ever grace my life.

''You blessed me with my voice and talents, so I'll bless you right back with the permanent return of Fizzy Pop. I guarantee it.''

She shakes her head unexpectedly. ''No, thanks. I don't want Fizzy Pop – the Capitol does. I want _you_ , Sota Shirai, the boy that I took in and loved spending every single moment of my life with. Promise me that you won't let the fame distract you from your goal. Stop listening to what the Capitol wants and become your own man, form your own opinions, and be who _you_ want to be, okay?''

I nod my head in compliance, taking in her encouraging words. _Who I want to be..._ I never actually was Sota Shirai. Up until now, I've always been Fizzy, the rockstar who's life took a graceful leap and ended up with a tragic fall.

 _''Tributes, your time of conversation with your head stylists are over. Please report to the tubes in which your launch pads are positioned.''_

''Don't forget this,'' she calls out, touching my neck and softly pushing my head forward. She shows me a straw boater hat with a black band and places it on my head comfortably. As I remain standing this way, she pecks a long kiss on both of my cheeks, the tiny pools of saliva freezing on both sides and leaving prints of ruby-shaded lips. ''Good luck in there, sweetie.''

I snuggle in and give her one last hug before entering the pod. Putting my hand on the glass, I utter, ''Don't ever get caught. Please...''

''I won't,'' she reassures. Reaching into her pocket, she takes out a crushed up microphone. ''You think I'd be stupid enough to get roped? I have my methods of getting away with things.''

Suddenly, as I'm giggling, the tube starts to ascend. ''I love you!'' I shout as I look down, receiving a silent 'Be you' and a wink.

I gulp, knowing that it's now or never, and this is my one and only chance at showtime. When I finally reach the top, sunlight comes, an elixir after so many black hours. The air becomes sweeter; birds soften the day with their chorus, and I breathe more deeply as if permission has been bestowed.

Around me, not many other tributes have arrived. All the way to left, about ten plates away, is Darren, a worried and frantic look on his face. Coming up from my right is Krissy, and I hold out a thumbs up. But then, I actually take my time to look at the cornucopia and the environment.

''Oh, my God...''

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! Okay, quick update, yeah. Like I said last chapter, I had what I wanted planned out so it was easier and quicker to write. So our last tributes to be shown are Malik, Gracie, Cherokee and Natalie, but next chapter's not gonna be four POVs only, hell no. But before anything else, just know that if your tribute appears late, it's not because they're a bloodbath. Honestly, I don't think I make my bloodbaths blatantly obvious - it's just that I have all these tributes designated for specific chapters, and their more pop-out moments are situated there. Anyone could've had a training day POV, but it probably wouldn't have been as meaningful as their assigned one, so just take that into account. Believe me, that's just how it goes. So far, everyone's gotten an equal amount of POVs besides those three above, and after them, it'll all be settled well. Anyway, not much to say besides the bloodbath is next chapter. The night's hella young over here and the sun hasn't set yet, so I'ma update this before it does. Also, besides updating this story, I've been pretty inactive on reviewing and PMing back, so if you haven't seen or heard anything from me, whether it's your story or a message, just know that I'll get that up soon. Questions?**

* * *

 **Favorite POV?  
**

 **Least favorite?**

 **Predictions for these five?**

 **Who do you _want_ to die?**

 **Any changed guesses for the arena?**

 **Lastly, you and your mentor/stylist have a tight bond. They're crying, you're crying, what are your final words before the arena?**

* * *

 **Well, yup, that's all. Not too much else to say. Actually, maybe I have a bit more that I wanna address, but I've lost my train of thought and can't remember. I'll pick it back up next chapter, so I hope you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading, and have an amazing time wherever the hell you are, doing whatever it is that you're doin'. See y'all next time! ^-^  
**


	12. Rando

**Bloodbath:**

* * *

 _I don't wanna wait for our lives to be over,  
If it happened now, would you take it how you left it?  
_

* * *

 **Yo, don't skip to the bottom. I swear to God, fam, I'm not playing with you ._.**

* * *

 **Natalie Needle, District Seven**

* * *

To the right of me is Cassian, which is already a huge no-no. This is so weird, though, for me, at least. On television, the pedestals don't seem to be that far away from each other, or extremely large, but both of the tributes next to me are at least thirty feet in the distance.

Loud panting echoes from my left, and right there is Cherokee – Millet's district partner. Shaking my head, I come to my senses and force myself to understand that I _can't_ feel any sort of pity for her at all. Millet and I are the only important matters right now, other than surviving.

Out of nowhere, a holographic timer appears. The countdown is exactly a minute, starting from sixty and slowly counting down to zero. As I continue to scope out the rest of the tributes, I come to realize that the Careers are all wearing something different – something better – than the rest of us tributes.

All of the outer district females, including me, are wearing heavy striped, long-sleeved plaid shirts that are tucked into our lengthy, hefty skirts that stop directly at our ankles. There are no shoes for us to wear, and flowery ankle bracelets reside on our tali. Not to mention that we have bandanas on, holding our hair in buns and such.

But Aurora and Camille are both wearing more lightweight, more appealing clothes for the audience to adore. Both of them have their hair let down elegantly in curls, and they wear silky mini dresses that stop right at their thighs, with gold locks on their wrists and necks. A bundle of flowers and roses center around their waists, and they keep their feet in what look like comfortable leather sandals. Barrettes are positioned all over their heads, too. I don't know where Odessa is, but I figure that she's wearing the same thing.

The males wear brown overalls with black straps over a white t-shirt and worn-out work boots. On top of their heads are bucket hats, and compared to the Career males... well, they look poor.

I take in a deep breath and look back up at the clock. _Forty seconds..._ Cherokee keeps whimpering to herself, whispering, ''I'm not evil... If I can make it out of here alive, they'll believe me... right?''

Mustering up all of the courage inside me, I turn to her and say, ''Hey, stop being so superstitious. Everything will turn out fine, all right?''

It sounds selfish, I know, but if I can convince her that she'll be okay, then nothing will come back to bite me.

''Keep telling her that.'' Only one person would intervene and say that just because he could, and I don't even have to turn back to know that it's Cassian.

He can say whatever he wants, but when something bad happens to him, then he'll have no reason to ask 'Why me?'

 _Thirty-five seconds..._

The timer continues to click like a bomb. I know that I can't stop it, can't reverse it, or slow it down. Each second that goes by drags me forward, helpless and nervous to the allotted time. I can't avoid it. The dread's like an invisible demon sitting heavily on my shoulders, and only I can hear the sharpening of its knives. I sweat, becoming pale, and then the tremor in my hands begins.

 _Snap out of it!_

Staring forward, I come to the facts that I haven't even paid any sort of attention to the cornucopia whatsoever. But... it doesn't even _look_ like a cornucopia. At least a hundred yards ahead – if not more – ivy and ferns stick through the crevices of an old winding stone path that leads to a colossal mansion. It looms proudly behind iron gates, flanked by rows of skeletal trees crowned in crimson.

All around the mansion are numerous fences, each one obviously new. The pale cedar planks have yet to see any type of harsh weather in this blistering sun. They're at least ten feet tall each, from what I can tell, which will make it impossible to climb over and escape if need be.

 _...Do they expect us to run this length just to reach a house?_ There are no weapons or bags scattered around anywhere, which makes me assume that if we want some equipment, we're gonna _have_ to enter through the doors of that manor.

 _Where's Millet?!_

 _Twenty seconds..._ The grass below me is straight and silent, the leaves dangled more as if they've been painted here. It leads to a segment of trees that are in front of the home, their canopies above in the distance, kind of like clouds of green.

Suddenly, something begins to shake. At first, no-one moves, our brains unable to make sense of the inputs that we hear. Our pedestals rattle like a freight train is passing by, but that's impossible. I look all around the place, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, but then I see it. In the far range, leaping over the fences, are men on horses – and if not at least fifty of them are charging at us, then _more_.

''Look at all those _horses!_ '' I hear a childish voice call out. ''That's a Mustang, and that's a Shire, and, ooh, they even have an Exmoor pony!''

Everyone is looking around, trying to find some sort of escape. I'm contemplating jumping off of my pedestal, but the timer is only at _thirteen seconds_.

''Fuck it!'' Out of nowhere, in the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Cassian lunging off of his own. To my surprise, he doesn't blow up, no bombs go off, and no guts or body parts go flying. _Have they been disabled this entire time and we were just being toyed with?_

Unlike most people, instead of running away, he charges _at_ the horses. The men come closer, and strapped around their chests are rifles. Gunshots blast through the air, creating smoke that soon invades the atmosphere. One-by-one, everyone else jumps off of their pedestals, some running away, some following after Cassian, and some failing altogether.

Quickly and quietly, I make myself as unnoticeable as possible. Hiding behind my own enormous plinth, I listen as screams fill the air, and gunshots continue to ring out, but there are no sounds of weapons.

Slightly cocking my head to the right, I watch, horrified, as Ten is abducted. One moment she's there, standing upright, pointing out at the animals that she loves, and then she's gone. Her muffled screams sound as she's hefted up over the shoulders of a dirty-looking, cocky man, but no-one is alarmed.

Why are the gamemakers doing this? They're kidnapping us, but for _what purpose?!_ More importantly... _Where's Millet?_

* * *

 **Cherokee Franklin, District Nine**

* * *

I can feel the sweat drench my skin, the throbbing of my own eyes, the ringing screams vibrating in my ears, and the thumping of my heart against my chest. I'm unable to hear my rapid breathing, but I can feel the oxygen flooding in and out of my lungs.

''Come here!'' Slowly climbing up to my knees, I take a quick glimpse over my pedestal and watch the District Six girl fight with the District Eleven girl for _no_ apparent reason. ''You are my shield, don't you get that?''

Her voice is shaky and she's scared, but instead of running away, she's using the other girl as her personal defensive weapon. Somehow, she manages to lock the girl's arms behind her back and clutch her throat, slowly reeling backwards. One of the hunters – I think that's what they are – takes out a whip from his belt and lashes it at both girls.

Falling on her butt, Six kicks at Eleven's head and shuffles away, taking off into the trees. ''Help!'' Eleven shouts out, throwing her arms forward. Her and I make eye-contact for a brief moment, and then she screams out once more. '' _Help!_ ''

Hesitantly, I look away from the soon-to-be corpse of a girl, the person I _failed_ to save. Fear tortures my guts, churning my stomach in tense cramps. It engulfs my conscience, knocking all other thoughts aside – it overwhelms my body, making it drastically exhausted, and I can't even feel my fingers as they dig into the soil beneath the grass.

However, most of all, it makes me calm – and that's what scares me the most.

I wanna help the tributes that are being taken, but I _can't_. My body won't budge, and even if it could move, I'd only make things worse. Both me and the other tribute would get grabbed, beaten, and probably killed.

In the end, there's no possible way for me to lend a helping hand. Every single day, my parents would tell me how unlucky I was, how much of a _curse_ I was. Why should I get up and risk the safety of others? Hell, it's not like I could make things any worse than they already are.

 _They're probably blaming you right now for the men coming out and hunting all of the tributes. They're probably blaming you for not saving Eleven. They're probably blaming you for the inevitable deaths of others._

Just as I feel like screaming, feel like letting my cover get blown, I hear a male grunt. ''Get off of me!''

The boy from Eleven – Malik – is being smacked repeatedly by the end of a rifle. Not just one, but _three_. The horrendous men are trying to tire him, hitting him with all their force. Malik fights back for what seems like an eternity, before finally being hit by the hoof of a horse. Immediately, as the attack smacks into his temple, he falls unconscious, and they trail off, dragging him by the arm at high speeds.

 _That's your fault, too._

I remain hidden, praying that I won't be found amongt those that are running and fighting for their lives. The birds that fly overhead are so clear to see in this beautiful sunlight, and so is the smoke that comes from a gun, signaling that another bullet has been shot.

Despite all this, only one sound is to be heard: the beating of my pulse throbbing in my ear.

Suddenly, the silence is surrounded by the haunting scream of footsteps approaching me. I think it's all over, but instead, I catch sight of Aether running with the Three male, pushing him forward until they reach the evergreen group of trees. Another shot blasts, this time actually landing, and I can see Aether stagger a little bit, clutching onto his right wrist. Three squats down, muttering something, but Aether tells him to leave.

For some reason, they don't shoot at him again. Instead, he points at _me._ From behind comes a shadow, a large, deformed one. I know it's one of the men, but I try to keep my fear on hold. ...I can't, though. _I am freaking out!_

I'm hyperventilating, trying to avoid anything and _everything_. Each second plays on forever as I sit perfectly still, listening to the footsteps of my likely murderer. This arena isn't safe, and I realize now that I should have never given up hope.

''Com' eer, girly,'' he says softly, his breath reeking of some sort of alcoholic beverage. He sways in his movement, and I can tell that I hold an advantage of some sort. By the time that I look back towards the direction of the boys, they're both gone. Grabbing me forcefully, the man shakes my shoulders and plants a slap across my cheeks. ''What I say to ye', gal?!''

 _Harassed, again?!_

I know that in moments like this, I should try to calmly fix the situation, but sometimes it's not that easy. Getting all up in the man's face, I harden my eyes, getting a puzzled look from him. Before I can help it, my holler reverberates like a clap of thunder – a pure roar of anger.

''Get the hell off of me!'' I scream, returning the hit right back. ''The name's Cherokee, not 'gal' or stupid 'girly', you hear?!''

Grabbing a hold of his arm, I sink my teeth into his skin as deeply as I can, forcing my jaw to close as much as possible. I can feel his skin ripping, the leakage of blood rushing out and taking comfort outside. The man tries his hardest to get me off of him, but I _won't_ let go.

When I do decide to finally ease his pain, I spit out a huge chunk of skin, watching as his fluids pour to the grass, completely unaffected. I should feel _something – feel remorse, feel scared, feel sorry._

But I don't.

''Shoot 'er, fellas!'' he screams. ''At least one more before we must take our leave! The gal isn't a propa' one!''

Bullets whiz over my head as I run away, ignoring everything around me. The adrenaline courses in my system as a flight or fight instinct. Nothing matters now, I just _have_ to get away. Maybe I can never outrun them, but I can surely hide and escape that way.

 _Am I really unlucky, Mother and Father? Was I truly born under Saturn? No, I'm not; and no, I wasn't._

What I am, though, is tired of being suppressed and neglected...

* * *

 **Malik Sherman, District Eleven**

* * *

The etching sound of footsteps lightly dancing across the grass is enough to send my back straight up. Soon enough, a cold bead of sweat washes over my face and chest, my heart trying to escape through my throat with the first chance it gets.

A cool breeze touches my skin, and as I stare down, I almost gasp at the purple welts that scatter across my abdomen like a disease. It hurts to breathe, and I can't help but wonder if some of my ribs might be broken.

Slowly, I try to get up, but I quickly realize how futile my attempts are when I have to bite my lips to keep from crying out. Including that, my hands are bound together by a tight rope that cuts off my blood circulation. _And it hurts..!_

''Dammit!'' I moan, doing my best to keep my voice low.

''Shut up!'' someone harshly demands, startling me. _I'm not alone?_ I turn my head, ready to get smacked after recalling what just happened earlier, only to be blessed with the appearance of Aaliyah. ''They told us not to speak...''

''Who? Who told you not to speak?''

''The people who kidnapped us, duh,'' she answers impatiently, obviously upset. ''Who else would I be talking about, Malik?''

Sharp pain lances through my head, and colorful spots flash in front of my eyes, making it feel like my whole body has been beaten up, and every slight movement causes my muscles to ache. Wincing in agony, I shut my eyes and rest my head against the back of... whatever it is that I'm against.

 _Regardless of what's going on, I gotta get out of here._

''Are there any weapons around here?'' I whisper, examining the area while waiting for an answer.

Aaliyah shakes her head, and the girl from Seven – who's seated next to me – replies with, ''No. When they took us behind the fences, a few soldiers, or whoever those people are, were holding machetes and rifles, but other than that—''

'''Tis a fine day to sell some slaves, would you not agree, my good fellow?''

''Indeed, it is.''

''Pray, Sir, have you our gold and shells? It is of necessary importance that my soldiers and I take our leave, but you had promised us a great reward. Have you forgotten?''

 _Bang!_

Following that one are many more, and with the sound of loud thuds, I can tell that bodies have just dropped. My ears strain from the sound, giving me a clue as to where the shots blasted from. Currently, there's no threat here – _yet_ – but there soon will be.

All around me, everyone's trying to remain as quiet as possible. The girls from Three, Five, and Ten, excluding Aaliyah and Natalie, are also here. There are a couple more people, but I have no clue who they are – and they're certainly not tributes, because they're all unfamiliar.

 _Where are Lachlan and Aspen? How was I the only guy to get caught?_

Speak of the devil! As soon as their names cross my mind, I catch sight of Aspen holding his head over the fence. ''Pssst! Malik!'' I almost can't believe my eyes. How the hell did he manage to get over here? Honestly, I thought him and Lachlan would be far gone.

With the help of _someone_ , he's thrown over the fence, and in his hands is a small axe that's not too difficult to carry. ''How did you know—?''

''Shush! I'll tell you everything while I get you out of here,'' he says quietly, beginning to work on my ropes. ''Lachlan and I weren't sure where you went, but I saw you get taken, and I figured that since those people jumped from the fences, they would be leading you back here. Turns out that the mansion is actually the cornucopia. We were a bit skeptical, but I'm glad you're safe.''

''Thank you so much!''

''No problem.'' Once he removes my ropes, he hands me the axe. ''Lachlan told me that you were pretty good with this, so here. All yours, my man.''

Picking myself up, I stretch out my body, trying to get my blood running again. I feel stiff, but as long as I'm not dead, everything is all right. _Why didn't they tie up our legs, too?_ I shake my head. That doesn't matter, because I'm free.

Everyone's eyes are on me, and right here, right now, I could save a couple of girls' lives. _But why would you want to? You're in a death match, and only you and your allies matter._

Imogen's chewing at her ropes, and they're almost untangled. Helping her wouldn't be the smartest decision. Facing Natalie, I instruct, ''Hold your hands up.''

Her eyes widen for a quick second, but then she smiles at me, as if she knew something good would happen to her. My axe's blade cuts the rope in half, making it easier for her to slip her hands through the widened hole. ''Thank you!''

''Malik, hurry up!''

Jogging forward silently, I throw Aspen over my back and step onto the lowest horizontal cross-beam of the wooden fence. Holding a firm grip on the top, I lift my left leg over it and tell Aspen to jump off. Below us is Lachlan, sighing with relief. ''Glad to see you're okay, man.''

''Same here,'' I breathe. Before I drop down, though, I turn back and hold my hand out for Natalie. She grabs onto my wrist, and with a forceful pull, I throw her over the fence.

''M-Malik! What about me?! Ma— Malik!'' Aaliyah grunts. ''Help me, Malik! Please!''

''I'm sorry. There's just not enough time, Aaliyah. Good luck... I hope the best for you.''

* * *

 **Gracie Sullivan, District Ten**

* * *

I don't know why the girl is yelling, but I can't look at the horses anymore because of her. Due to her making noise, the mean men come back. But why do they want us? Why do they want _me_?

''The hell?!'' A large man with hair all over his arms surveys our small space, taking a cigar out of his mouth and spitting on the floor near me. ''Where that big 'ol boy go?''

''Foget'im, William. Dontcha worry 'bout that boy. The buyers will much prefer these beautiful gals. They young ones...''

As I listen to their words, my lips curl and my nostrils flare. My mind feels as if lead is coursing through it instead of blood. This once sunny day now feels tarred, disfigured into something grotesque. I keep my gaze off of the two men; I can't bear to look their way, because if they come into my vision, I think I might vomit. Disgusting. _They're nothing but disgusting._

''Bro... Honestly, can we just go? What type of bloodbath is this?'' Imogen mutters.

''I told ya to shut ya trap!'' Fixing up his collar, the man walks up to one of the nice girls and grabs her by the cheek. ''They gonna love ya...''

Sometimes I don't understand a lot of things, but Gabby told me that when people are mad, it's best to be quiet. I know that something's wrong with me, but it's not impossible to follow simple instructions...

The man snaps his fingers, and out of nowhere, people come in and start grabbing everyone randomly. Some people get taken by their hair, others are pulled by the clothes on their backs, but no-one says anything. When a man touches me, though, I break loose.

I gasp and try to jerk free of his grasp. ''No, you nasty man! I don't want you to touch me! This isn't how it's supposed to go!''

He laughs, not taking me seriously, and drags me along with the rest. When we pass through the section that the men came in from, there's an audience standing outside. Cheers come, fists are thrown into the air, and eyes fling wide open. The men hold some type of paper in their hands while the women stand next to their husbands, fanning themselves with their gloves.

As I look up, my stomach twists when I see pillories in the center. I remember reading a book about knights who killed witches, and their heads were cut off with swords while they were restrained.

 _...Is my head going to be cut off?_

Instead of placing us in them, William, I think his name was, forcefully removes the clothes from everyone else's back except for me and the girls that I recognize. _Stay quiet before something bad happens to you!_ ''...This is gross.''

''Huh?!'' William whips around and speed walks over to me. ''Repeat what ya said again! Do it before I hit ya!''

''...I said that this is gross.''

''This be the one I was talkin' 'bout, fellas!'' he exclaims. ''She was yellin' all 'bout horses and such. She knew each one that we had... Any bids?''

This man makes no appeal to my feelings at all; he rests no hope on kindness, but only strives to show how well worth I am to be _bought!_ He's entreating them for my bone and blood...

''Show 'em ya teeth.'' He advances with his arms crossed, looking benevolent in the audience's eyes. Strenuously, he grabs my mouth and throws his arms up in opposite directions, forcing me to smile.

''Stop it!'' With a fury of kicks, I try to fight the man off, but he grabs me by my waist and chuckles, his fake demeanor making the people in the crowd happy to see more.

''The little gal's on'y a chile, ain't she, William? She'll make a prime gal once I'm done with 'er. Fifty dollas!''

''Fifty dollas from Mas'r Vernn!''

''One hunnid dollas!'' Raising his hand in the air, a man, huge in every way – wide and tall, legs as big as an adult's waist – steps forward, already out of breath.

''Two hunnid!''

''Vernn, just lemme have the gal! There be plenty for ya to buy, but she special!''

''Impossible. The gal is too intelligent to pass on. Besides, my little one needa friend...''

''But _I_ need me a woman! She need a gen'lm'n to be spry for her, and I'd be more than happy to oblige.''

''Two hunnid from Mas'r Vernn going once, going twice—!''

''Three hunnid!''

''Five hunnid dollas!''

''Vernn!''

''Five hunnid going once... twice... three times!'' William declares. ''The gal is sold to Mas'r Vernn! I'm sure she'll do a heap of work for ya with dem assets, yeh?''

'''Course she will.''

No... This wasn't how things were supposed to go! I was supposed to keep one of the horses and ride them off to safety, not be _sold!_

I back into a wall, red in the face with my hands tied. It's likely that anyone in the proximity can hear me screaming. ''Stop this!''

But they won't... My freedom's being denied, and I can't live with that.

* * *

 **Cassian Castellan, District Two**

* * *

From the outside, it would be impossible to tell that this house was old. The grim and gloomy building is the worst excuse for a home that I've ever seen. It's honestly more like a long-abandoned insane asylum rather than a once glamorous mansion. The doors and windows are covered with a thick layer of dust that looks like it's been untouched for years.

The glass frames look back at me like the eyes of an empty soul, along with the grand entryway that gives me a bad impression.

Weapons hang against the scratched walls clearly, but there are very minimal of them. Odessa already has a spear equipped, and Camille's got a lengthy, wooden axe in her hands.

''Yo, where are the bags? Where is my machete?'' I ask, looking around for important supplies.

''I don't know, but I haven't found my weapon yet, either,'' Sota sighs. ''The residence is big, but a bit too big for my liking.''

''Let's go check upstairs, then,'' Aurora requests, coming up with an idea. _She's right._ There's so much more to this house than just the bottom portion.

 _I hope I'm making you guys proud._

Jumping up on the first step, I shiver a little bit when I notice that the stairs are slapped against a chipboard wallpaper. They feel too close... too uncommonly narrow. The rail is simply a plank of wood supported by three spindles, and it looks like it could come crashing down with the weight of a child.

''Go!'' With a helpful shove, Sota asks, ''What are you waiting for, man? You scared of the second floor or something?''

''No. This just doesn't look safe to me, that's all.''

''The Games aren't safe.'' Rolling her eyes, Camille adds, ''You shouldn't have volunteered if you wanted to be _safe_.''

''YoU sHoUlDn'T hAvE vOlUnTeReD iF yOu WaNteD tO bE sAfE,'' I imitate, sticking out my tongue and racing up to the top. ''Shut the fuck up.''

Aurora and Sota giggle silently. Somehow, I even manage to get a smile from Odessa, but she quickly snaps out of it and returns back to serious matters. ''Does anyone know where Aether is?''

''And Krissy? What about her?'' Aurora inquires.

''Krissy told me that she was going to stick with Pavel and his allies for a while,'' Sota answers. ''Aether, though, I have no idea.''

''Why would she stay with them?'' Odessa questions. ''That makes no sense.''

''She told me that she was gonna kill them and then regroup with us.''

''She doesn't have the balls to kill two little boys, and I doubt that she'd overpower Pavel,'' Camille intervenes. ''You got played. She never wanted to ally with us, and you just let her escape.''

As they continue speaking about Krissy, I decide to go explore. In the top hallway, there are numerous amounts of rooms, but there's no way that I'm gonna check each one of them individually. There's too much to go over, and not enough time. Sooner or later, we're gonna have to go hunting before the rest of the tributes get too far away. _If I'm being honest, taking a life and watching someone gasp their last breath doesn't sound very fun..._

To the right, though, a ladder catches my attention. Before I know it, I'm acting on impulse and climbing up to some sort of attic. ''Bingo! Hey, come up here, guys! This attic's full of equipment!''

Immediately, I run to the first wall that holds a machete and grab it. I finger the solid broad blade, finding comfort in the upward curvature. There are backpacks all around, empty water bottle canisters, bags of fruit, and even pairs of extra clothing just lying around.

''Dude, no way!'' Sota shouts, rushing towards his crossbow. Taking it into his inventory, he scopes out the large room, looking for a quiver full of arrows, I suppose. Standing up, I step forward, listening as the floorboard creaks, something smashing against the ground. Aurora has some sort of chain in her hands, and there's a sharp knife-like blade at the end of it. ''Did you know that they have pistols here, too?''

''What are you talking about?'' I ask. Suddenly, everyone's attention is shifted to Sota. Where he found a couple of arrows, he also found guns – ten of them. He takes one and begins to inspect it. The stocks are covered with ivory inlay that the wood shows only in tiny interstices, the metal work lavishly engraved. ''Whoa! Shoot it!''

''You don't have to tell me twice.'' Pointing it at me, he pulls the trigger. Fortunately, his aim is terrible – with this weapon, at least – and a hole is punctured in the wall behind me. _Sota, what the hell!_

''Can you two stop?!'' Camille demands. ''Seriously. For once, will you actually take things for what they are? You could've killed him, idiot!''

''Yeah, guys... Come on, chill,'' Aurora steps in. ''Let's talk about what just happened. There was no bloodbath, and kids were captured. We weren't, though. Gunshots blasted, and from what everyone saw, Cassian didn't get trampled or hurt when he dove into the action. Why?''

''Because we're the Careers,'' Odessa answers, leaning against the wall with her spear. ''I'm assuming that the game is hunt or be hunted, capture or be captured. We're not supposed to be at risk – _they are_.''

''But what about—''

''Are you guys in here?'' Shockingly enough, Aether's voice rings out, and before we know it, there he is, standing in front of us. ''I thought I lost you all for a second...''

''Where were you? More importantly, what happened to your hand?!'' I ponder. ''...Did you get the first kill of the Games? You totally did, didn't you?''

''No, I was shot...''

''Come here!'' Aurora orders. ''Let me wrap that wound up before you bleed out. There's not a lot that we can do about this currently, but it's better than getting an infection and risking your chances.''

Everyone walks forward, approaching Aether and Aurora to discuss what's going on, and to figure out this entire mess. A few cobwebs continue to slap against my face, and I'm beginning to believe that spiders are the oldest residents of this manor.

''I-I... I was running forward, but then I accidentally bumped into one of the other tributes. Turns out that the mutts, I guess, were shooting at him, and I took a bullet to the hand. It hurts, but I can ma— Does anyone else smell that?''

I turn away from the conversation as my stomach heaves, my nostrils filling with the smell of rotting meat. ''...Come here!'' Suddenly, I feel someone's rough hand grab my shoulder, and I scream – much louder than I should have – as I elbow whatever's behind me until I can feel my skin _sinking_ into their flesh.

Turning around, I force the thing's hand off of me and slice horizontally, beheading the... the corpse? It's almost entirely devoid of skin and pits with burrowing insects. Without eyelids, its milky eyes stare into the frozen ceiling while its lip-less mouth hangs open.

''If... a _law_ is... _unjust_ , a man... is not only right to _disobey_ it, but he is _obligated_ to do so...''

I can't even believe me eyes. I don't _want_ to anyway. I've never seen something like this before, not even in my worst nightmares. But now... I've witnessed something my eyes won't be able to erase. The absolute horror completely paralyzes me, and the more I think about running out of this room, or simply moving a bit, I feel discouraged and utterly terrified.

 _...What is this Game?_

* * *

 **No Deaths**

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! If you skipped to the bottom, joke's on you. Okay, there's a lot to say about this chapter. I know that some of you have questions. Why were there no deaths? This chapter was honestly just to establish everyone's position. I don't know if I told you guys yet, but these are going to be a lengthy Games. The entire point of them is to torture these tributes for an act of terrorism, so, in the Capitol's (my!) eyes, ending their lives in the bloodbath would be too easy. It'd be like letting them off the hook, and I don't think the Capitol forgives very just like that... or at all. This story is honestly just a plot setting, and everyone's actions in the bloodbath and where they go can alter what happens to other tributes, and really, things will be very subtle, whether you notice them or not. What is the arena? For those of you who guessed something along the lines of slavery, you're close. Honestly, think mid-to-late 1800s and early-to-mid 1900s. Discrimination plays a huge role in this story, and timelines are all mixed up. At first, it was supposed to be a slave plantation, but I expanded on that and figured that so much more could be done. And first thing's first - no, I'm not racist. No, I don't support the inequality of anyone. No matter what your age, gender, sexuality, skin color, ethnicity, etc is, I think everyone should be treated equally, but I thought that this would be an awesome arena idea. The Capitol shows no mercy, so why would they care if a couple of tributes are whipped or beat or fucked around with?  
**

 **And no, not only the darker skinned tributes will be oppressed. I'm honestly not about that, and masters and such won't only be white people. I wanna have a diverse cast, and I'm not trying to make this personal for anyone. If you do think that I'm racist, then I don't know what to tell you. Smd and eat shit, I guess, idk, 'cuz it's not really worth arguing over after typing that ^. Writing some of this gave me a headache, especially Gracie's POV. It lowkey got me hot, but the concept, imo, works really well. In the end, each tribute is held in shackles, whether it's mentally or physically. Starting next chapter, people will start dying, yeah. And I think I might have to change the rating of this story to M. No, I'm not writing porn, that's not my thing, but the ideas that I have for what these kids are gonna go through and how they're gonna die will probably be needing a change. The whole auction thing was just the beginning, and it's sort of a hunt or be hunted type thing. I honestly think that everyone in this story will be broken one way or another. I kinda got lazy towards the end of this chapter, but I hope it's not too noticeable or bad.  
**

 **And while I'm here, I'ma just take the time to say that if your tribute dies early, then that's it. Idk, it's never happened to me, but I've seen authors get yelled/cursed at because someone thought that their tribute deserved to go far? Like, okay, I get that, yeah, we all wanna break the top 10, but you all know what you got yourselves into when you submitted. I didn't ask for bloodbaths, and I didn't ask where you wanted your tribute to place or where you think that they should be placed. I sound like a dick right now, but I'm just being real here. Someone has to place 26th, k? Glad that we're all on the same page and understanding :)**

* * *

 **Anyway, I don't have any questions for you guys. Share your opinions if you'd like, and the start might be slow, but everything will pick up, I promise. If you're curious about the alliances, here they are.**

* * *

 **Young and Dangerous: Aurora, Aether, Camille, Cassian, Odessa, Sota  
Poindexters: Chayona and Imogen  
Sibling Bond: Eloise and Darren  
Bros Before... Puzzles?: Lachlan, Malik, Aspen  
Kinda Sketchy: Condor and Helen  
Emotional Vengeance: Natalie and Millet  
Wendy Darling and Peter Pan: Sebastian, Mackenzie, Krissy, Pavel  
Loners: Gideon, Lucretia, Cherokee, Gracie, Aaliyah**

* * *

 **Anyway, yeah, that's all. Have a wonderful morning/day/night/whatever time it is for you guys wherever the hell y'all are at. See ya next chapter! ^-^  
**


	13. Caretaker

**Day One:**

* * *

 _Every night before I fall asleep, I think of where my sanity went.  
How something so real could just disappear, I must be way too fucking dense.  
_

* * *

 **Condor Teal, District Seven**

* * *

Distance is all that matters. I'm not stopping for anything, and I'm sure as hell not taking my foot off the pedal because it _seems_ safe. At my side, Helena sprints with me, panting and sweating.

The world rushes by in a blur, everything looking distorted and weird, and I know that the pain's coming. My small cramp goes by fast, yet slow, almost suspended. Then, out of nowhere, Helena hisses and makes direct impact with me. I feel my bones move in a way that they shouldn't, and I can only pray that they're not jangled.

Instead of jumping back up to see what just happened, I remain motionless – so much for not stopping for anything, am I right?

Above me, a butterfly beats its wings up and down so sharply that I'm almost afraid that it's a mutt. _Almost_. With legs that somehow stick, it holds the stem of a flower that's already past its peak – dying – petals blackening at the edges and curling.

That really opens up my eyes a bit more. Everything around here is beautiful, but also destructive and vulnerable at the same time; fragile... _Like me._

Sighing, I place both of my hands behind my head and breathe outward deeply. ''What's up, Helena? I know that you didn't bump into me on accident. Got something to say?''

''Well, I...'' she hesitates, holding something crucial back.

Putting on a reassuring smile, I look up towards the sky and chuckle. ''Look, I trust you. Just spit it out and talk to me.''

Even though I do feel like I can place my life in her hands, I can't afford to not be weary of someone without a visible weakness like her. Sometimes I wonder if her personality is actually something less than what she's shown me.

A scowl flashes across her face as her stomach grumbles. ''I think we should go back to the cornucopia.''

''Why?'' I quickly ask. ''I mean, I know that we need food and equipment, but is it really worth it if the Careers are still there? And we don't even _know_ what the cornucopia is. That huge manor, maybe? Even if I'm correct with that prediction, the place is too big for things to just be lying around. It's risky.''

''You just answered your own question but added so much more thinking than necessary.'' Putting her hand up to her mouth as she yawns, she adds, ''We need weapons, too. Besides, I doubt that the Careers are lingering around that area. C'mon, after the bloodbath the cannons sound. Have you heard anything yet? It's been at least an hour since what went down, so I wouldn't put it past them to be hunting right now. This is our chance!''

''But I'm not good with weapons. I'm not proficient enough to help us out with anything other than the surrounding environment! You are, though. I've seen what you can do with darts.''

 _And maybe I'm afraid that you might shoot me in the neck. How far does my trust really go?_

''That might be true, but if something bad happens, how are we gonna protect ourselves? What do we do if we have no form of defense?''

''Yeah, you're right,'' I admit. ''Listen, I'm just a bit cautious... and scared, too. Just because I'm afraid for my life doesn't mean that I should hold us back. It sucks that we can't simply be—''

''—free? I was thinking the same exact thing.'' Picking herself up, she approaches me and grabs one of my hands. Hers are baby soft and smooth, like an infant. Maybe that's only because of the Capitol – because of her stylists – or possibly because we managed to escape without injuries.

People usually have callouses, scars, red welts from fighting for their lives and barely holding on by a thready needle, but she's different. She helps me feel more confident that we'll be able to survive this thing. My mind relaxes, changing the posture of my body from anxious to calm. With her help, I hoist myself up to my feet, smiling.

''Talk about an abstract idea. Unfortunately, neither of us will ever be free until we get out of here.''

Rolling her eyes, she lightly pats me on my shoulder and giggles. ''You're a good-natured guy, Condor, but sometimes you're too philosophical for your own good. We're free to roam around and go back for what we need, aren't we? Don't use that word in such a way. It comes in many forms, my friend.''

''It really does, huh.''

 _Don't be so paranoid. At the end of the day, you've got more to offer than you actually know. Learn to believe_.

* * *

 **Cherokee Franklin, District Nine**

* * *

Am I nasty person?

I didn't help anyone out during the bloodbath, and, because of me, a few of those teenagers could be dead. _Me. I_ didn't do anything to stop it, but I'm alive because of my selfishness. This... isn't me.

What happened to the girl who was never discouraged to lend a helping hand, no matter how much of a mistake she made or what she went through?

 _This is the ''hidden evil'' that my parents believed in, isn't it?_ If I were to die back there, they'd be satisfied. If I'm to die any time soon, they'll be satisfied. But right now, being alive, living, breathing... they hate it, don't they? They think I'll become some murderous girl who feels no remorse. My one and only wish is that they understand how I feel someday.

Lavina can't say or do anything about it. While she was showered with affection, I was forced to go out there and work – I was disciplined, I was punished. Truthfully, even if I wasn't the biggest fan of my living standards, I did love my sister. She was what kept me going, and she still is. To see her face one more time... that would make all of this worth it.

For a nuclear family, we sure failed at the treat everyone equally standard. The grief of thinking about my life before the Games surges with every one of my expelled breaths, continuing to reach higher peaks, never sufficiently soothing by my long intakes of the damp air.

Tears begin to spill from my helpless eyes onto the newly growing grass. My gaze falls from bloom-to-bloom, forcing me to realize in this moment that nothing's gonna stop for me. All pretense of quiet coping is lost, and I sink deeper into the drenched boulder, not caring about the water that soaks my skin.

My fingers clasp the grass while I use my left hand to furiously scratch at my legs. ''This irritating—!''

 _Yikes!_ I almost scream.

Furiously, I close my eyes in a grimace and lie on the ground, slowly hovering my hand over the nasty gash in my leg. While sprinting away, I tripped over myself and skid across a path of nothing but dirt, twigs, and rocks. Somehow, it wouldn't surprise me if the Gamemakers 'enhanced' the sharpness of those materials for nothing more than giggles.

Wincing in pain, I stare up at my shaky hand, observing the blood that oozes between the space of my fingers. The dark crimson liquid flows from my calf and splatters onto the floor. It seems as if that every corner of this beautiful environment is ruined by _my_ flowing blood.

All of a sudden, a brief noise catches my attention – the sound of footfalls... The approaching footsteps have the wet sound of someone stepping on grass, indicating that they're near; like someone who hasn't learned to walk quietly and instead relies on the merges to muffle their steps.

Each one is chaotically spaced from the last with no rhythm at all. Whoever it is – or better yet, whoever _they_ are – don't care about being stealthy. They just want something, some _one_. Someone like me.

Back in training, one of the trainers told me that not stressing a deep scratch was the best possible solution for aiding it in its recovery, but in a situation like this, it's not worth it. I want to live, I _deserve_ to live!

That's why, in a heartbeat, I disappear from the view and get a head start.

* * *

 **Sota Shirai, District Four**

* * *

This countryside stretches before us like a great quilt of golden, brown and green squares held together by the thick green stitching of hedgerows. They rise and fall like giant waves on a gentle ocean, dotted with grass, but barely any animals. Occasionally there'll be a wood that separates the fields, or a farmhouse barn, but not now.

''Thought you said you knew exactly where the tributes would be?'' Aurora says, placing her pack down on the wet green and sighing. ''Well, that's okay, I guess. A break wouldn't be bad after traveling such a distance.''

I'm about to respond, but there's no doubt or surprise that hits me when Odessa begins to unpack beside Aurora and urges, ''You don't have to be so kind to him, you know. We all make mistakes, but criticizing each other is the best thing we can do right now.''

''Ain't that the truth?'' Camille chimes in. ''Charging in here like this was pretty stupid, Sota, but I can commend you for trying. It'd be better if we let the Gamemakers guide us, honestly.''

''No, it wasn't stupid at all. Just because you think something's stupid doesn't mean it actually is. Besides, my idea wasn't anywhere close to being a flaw,'' I speak up, verbally holding my own against them. ''Any ideas that come from Panem's brightest star are perfection, nothing le—''

The casualty of our conversation dies down as soon as I lose my balance and nearly do a split, guillotined from our mouths. Creases tug at everyone else's lips in a mock gesture, but I smile to myself because I'm brilliant. The liquid that I stepped on wasn't water, but instead blood... a _trail_ of blood.

''Looks like it really wasn't so stupid after all.'' Pointing down at my legs, Aether continues by giving me a quick nod. ''Whoever we're hunting, they've just led us straight to them.''

Cassian looks shook. ''No way. Is this a dream? Sota Shirai actually had a bright idea for once? Shoot me.''

I reach into my lower pocket and grab a hold of one of the pistols that I acquired in a playful way. ''You bet your fucking ass I did.''

''Maybe we should wait before criticizing our allies this early on, don't you two think?'' Aurora gazes towards Camille and Odessa, who share a glance and then both look away. ''Come on, girls, it's all jokes!''

''Whatever,'' I groan. ''You guys can all joke around, but I'm here to show Panem who's the best once and for all.''

I begin to venture forward and follow the blood, the rest of my alliance right behind me. Sooner than I expect, I begin to hear a silent cry of pain that fills my ears. In the distance – not too far away, yet not too close, either – I spot a small girl, hunched over and distraught. For some odd reason, she perks up, probably sensing our presence, and before anyone can do anything about it she takes off in a sprint.

''She's running for it!'' Cassian announces, reaching for his machete and preparing to take off after her.

''No, you don't!'' I shout.

Surprisingly, everyone else stands still, waiting for me to carry out my actions. Other than Cassian, of course, who's completely oblivious to the fact that this chick is my kill. As he takes a few steps forward, I kick out my leg, trip him, draw the crossbow from my hunting pack, and place a bolt in the barrel, nocking it into place.

Leveling the weapon at an angle that will send the bolt into the girls lower area, I aim just under her thigh and pull back on the tight string. For a brief moment, Ursula's proud and hoping face pops into my mind, and I nearly choke.

The bolt soars through the air at high speeds, circling around as it picks up wind, and then finally embeds itself into the young girl's popliteal artery. Nothing comes out of the girl's mouth this time, not even a tiny squeal. Instead, she heavily tumbles to the ground, her skin clammy and glistening with cold sweat.

Narrowing my eyes, I almost shake my head at the blood blasting from the back of her knee, kinda like a fountain or something. Her eyes grow wide, as if someone – yes, me – is going to deliver the fatal blow. Grabbing a hold of the bolt, I rip it out of her, excusing myself by saying, ''This can be reused, as you can tell.''

Forcefully kicking her shoulder back and pressuring her against the ground, I swiftly remove a sharp, deadly knife from my belt and twirl it in my hand, arching it up in the air. As soon as I lower my arm, a scream erupts from her throat – there it is! Fortunately for her, it dies down quickly, as my knife buries itself into her suprasternal notch, hilt deep between her neck and collar bone with such ease.

Her shaking eyes meet mine, _pleading_ , but her cannon sounds soon after they gloss over. Yanking out the second blade, I place both blood-covered weapons back into my inventory and try to convince myself that this was worth it.

''First blood for Fizzy Pop, bitches!'' I claim. ''This just proves that I'm better than the rest of you! Where are your kills? How many of you can actually say that you've taken a life? Fizzy Pop can! Yeah, that's right. I—''

 _''Stop listening to what the Capitol wants and become your own man... be who you want to be, okay?''_

Ursula's words flutter in my mind, causing me to grow unsteady. My head begins to spin, and all of a sudden I start to feel nauseous. Staring down at the girl's body, I notice the giant Nine on her back. Funny... I killed a girl and I didn't even know her name.

I've done something clearly awful, all because I wanna justify my previous actions and become famous again. Not only does the guilt sit on my chest, but it's in my brain, not allowing me to get over this.

''So... How does it feel?'' Cassian asks, breaking the awkward silence.

As I'm about to answer, Camille slowly approaches the girl and slashes an axe across her back, making sure that she's dead. _You could have just checked her pulse, asshole!_

She looks up at me, waiting for my answer just like the rest of the alliance. Cassian's serious for once, Aurora looks scared, Aether and Odessa seem worried but keep a blank face, and Camille appears fascinated. No matter what I think, there's only one answer that satisfies everyone.

''...It feels great, duh! I'm one step closer thanks to her.''

* * *

 **Millet Arrowroot, District Nine**

* * *

They took her away as if she were a prize that they won. The only thing that I imagined as she died was her dangling from a high-rise tower, and the one thing between her and certain death was my outstretched hand.

I didn't reach her in time...

Her life was miserable – she was cast off like a worn sock, she wasn't cared for as much as she should have been. I always cared for her, but it's too late to admit that. I should've soothed her in the bad times that were there before we entered this cursed arena, but there's not a single ounce of forgiveness in my soul.

I knew what I was doing when I ran away from Cherokee. I knew how selfish I was being when I decided to be sensible and get out of there before they found me. Seeing that axe slash across her back made me remember.

The sound of her cannon blasting repeats over and over again in my head. Running my hand through my smooth hair in a quick succession, I sit down in the center of the cornucopia and fix my gaze on one spot that I believe a camera is in with a stare that could freeze anyone in sight.

It's just like Mom, Dad, and Ryess. I wanted to protect all three of them, and in her final moments, I suddenly wanted to protect Cherokee, too. Now I can barely hold my emotions in place like I always have, barely keep my eyes from welling up – each tear a fine work of art that I couldn't ever create in a thousand lifetimes.

''Millet?!''

As I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, I spin around and find Natalie sprinting towards me. ''Natalie!''

Before I know it, my ally is five feet away from me, her expression mixed with happiness and surprise. ''I thought you left me! Seriously, where did you go? I've been lingering around here for hours after they took me.''

''I didn't know that you got captured.'' Pressing both of my hands against my face, I let out a shallow gasp and take in this sweet moment. ''Like everyone else, I ran as fast as I could and thought I'd find you somewhere out in the open. Thankfully I came back. How'd you escape, and where'd they take you?''

''Just beyond those fences beside the manor,'' she answers truthfully. ''Malik and his alliance helped me climb over them, then we went our separate ways. I was scared that... Millet? What's wrong?''

''We need to go inside that mansion and collect some supplies.'' Natalie's face contorts into a look that screams 'No way'. A silence creeps over us, and she steps back. ''You've got nothing to fear, I swear.''

''The Careers could be in there, Millet! I don't think that taking the risk is worth it.''

''They're not!'' I spit in utter frustration.

''How would you know?'' She peers down at me in a more strict manner, face resolutely unsatisfied.

I stand up without a word, collecting myself and taking responsibility of both our lives. ''Because I saw them kill Cherokee. Her back was slashed, and she...'' After a few seconds, I speak up again. ''She died, okay? I don't know how much time we have left, but the Careers, for a fact, were definitely in there. They had bags and weapons and belts... there's no way that they got sponsors this early on, so heading in there is our only option.''

Natalie puts her head down, almost as if she's searching for the right words to say so that she doesn't get some sort of backlash, and then finally responds with, ''I'm sorry for your loss. What are your plans?''

''Well, I figure that one kill isn't going to please them, the audience, or the Gamemakers, so we have quite some time to gather equipment. Since all of them are out hunting, we should be meticulous and look for the best and most important stockpiles.''

Behind Natalie, the sun casts its golden rays down upon the clouds of billowing smoke, turning them bright red. _Not too long now before they begin to head back._ ''I'm going in there whether you follow me or not. I'd rather take the chance and be able to defend myself instead of being out here without a source of protection. I care for you, but if you're not willing to co-operate, then I won't force you.''

I take a step forward and walk beside Natalie, away from our vulnerable position. Before I can get too far from her, though, she reaches out and grabs my wrist. Her eyes sparkle in the comforting light, showing the determination that she carries. ''Lead the way.''

In this moment, it's really hard not to smile.

* * *

 **Gideon Alvaro, District Three**

* * *

I feel a raindrop fall against my skin, followed by several others, but I currently have no form of shelter. Continuing to move, I find myself eventually settling on a thick tree and leaning back on my palms to observe the remaining constellations uncovered from the clouds.

The moon hangs full and hazy beneath an eclipse of blazing stars, allowing me to see much clearer at this time of day. My body feels like a fountain for the incoming rain, the water making my eyelids heavy.

I close my dull eyes, a rattled sigh passing through my parted lips, causing my breath to fog up in front of me, obscuring my vision. Just as I feel myself beginning to relax, the Capitol anthem begins to play, followed by the precious seal, and then the smiling face of the District Nine girl appears.

Despite hearing her cannon sound, I still can't believe that only one person died today. _Wow, only twenty-four others to get through._

But... I can do it. I can get back to Eren as long as I stick to my plans. _Don't forget, you've got Aether to thank. He took a bullet for you._

I wish I could repay him in some way, but what's there to do? Honestly, he's the only person here that I'd be okay with having as an ally. Maybe that would have been the better plan, but I don't know how the Careers would've acted. If he left them like he told me he would, then would they make it a goal to hunt us? Put a target on our heads?

Fixing my posture and cracking my back, I brush my hand through my wet, soaked hair and bite my lips. It's good that I remained guarded and took my own path, I suppose. There are too many things that could happen, and the majority of those that are surging in my mind are bad.

Somewhere off in the close distance, I notice that the usual blackness of this night is replaced with brilliant colors of red, orange and yellow. Maybe it's a festival, maybe it's a fire. There's absolutely no way to find out unless...

 _Come on, stop being so scared of the unknown. There was only one death for a reason. If the Gamemakers wanted more, there'd be more. Step out of your comfort zone for once and go check it out._

With clenched fists, I swallow down my pride and take multiple steps forward until I find myself standing in front of some sort of blacksmith's shop, located in an extremely isolated area. The building is of a usual drab, unpainted, flat lumber, and the roof's covered with cedar shingles. A few horses sleep in one big room on the dirty floor where equipment is kept.

''Who goes there?!'' I flinch as soon as I hear a man's voice and throw myself onto the ground. The grinding of iron stops sounding, and his footsteps resonate in my ears. ''If you be come in peace, I receive you in peace. Heroism ins the dignity of my ancestors, and, in their name, I welcome you.''

Slowly rising to my feet, I come into view of the heavily-armored, fully grown man. ''Uh... Hey, I was—''

''No need to be scared, Sonny.'' Ironically enough, the man's holding a dagger in his padded gloves. Once he catches me eyeing it, he lets out a hearty laugh and places it to the side. ''Sorry about that, chile. What's yer name?''

I shake my head, blinking repeatedly in order to get this water out of my vision. ''Gideon... sir?'' Grabbing the bottom of my shirt, I bring it up to my face and cover myself from the freezing temperature. The man – mutt? – notices my trembling body and invites me inside, into the warmth of his little shop. ''Thank you. If it isn't a problem, may I ask why you're located so far from everything else?''

He stretches his arm around his chest and gives me a toothy grin. ''Guess ya didn't herr 'bout the Civil War, eh? Ya see, since we's in the South, this place here be very private. Our noble soldiers gots to get they weapons from someone, and that be me. If I was in some city area where them Northerners could find me, that'd be my life. I be the one to put the blade in they rifle muzzles.''

I've got no idea as to what this ''Civil War'' is, or what's goin' on between the ''North'' and ''South'', but I nod my head anyway. ''Wha 'bout yerself, boy?''

To be honest, I don't even know what to say, and for all I know, he could be one of those horsemen who were intent on kidnapping everyone at the start. But after about twenty minutes of explaining what the hell I just went through, he gives me a shocked look.

''Ya need to leave immediately.'' My heart drops when he says this. Careful not to make any sudden movements, I slowly move back, but then he stops me in my tracks and says, ''Take this dagga here. You slaves ain't meant to be free, but lucky for ya, I ain't a crooked human m'self. Once ya leave this place, head East until ya arrive in a town called Beaufort. The people there ain't cruel, but be careful. It'll take ya a day at least to gets there, but if you see any soldiers, I say—''

''No need for heading to Beaufort.'' Completely dismissing the idea, I gratefully take the four inch dagger. It lies in my cold hands, so sharp that even the most gentle of touches to flesh would result in a free bleeding cut. ''Do you have some string by any chance? I intend on crafting a spear as a means of safety with this dagger. Maybe combine it with a fallen tree branch, you get me?''

''You's an innovative one, ain't ya? I do, actually.'' His boots slap hard against the concrete floor as he retreats to his closet of inventory. Once he comes back to me, he hands me two ripped-up, plastic strings that look more like fringes. ''Why ain't ya wanna go to Beaufort?''

''Because there's someone I gotta find,'' I concede. _And because Beaufort might be a trap. The soldiers could be heading through there from what you said earlier. Your idea isn't the same as mine, old man; and mine doesn't end up in me regretting my choices._

''A special lady, lad?''

''Not quite.''

Springing up with a shrug, I cross my arms together after securing the dagger in my pockets, confirming that it won't cut me by any means. ''Well, I gotta go. Thanks for everything, sir.''

The man holds out his hand at the last minute, grabbing my shoulder before I can enter the rainy night once more. ''Just know this. Awkward ties only confuse us poor humans. We forget each other as soon as the sun sets. Trust me.''

* * *

 **26th - Cherokee Franklin, District Nine**

* * *

 **Red, sorry 'bout Cherokee. She was a really different type of tribute that I'd never actually received before. The whole bad luck and superstitious thing was a lot, but I liked it. It was fun, and even if other people thought it was too much or just uninteresting, I still thought it was a cool thing to write. Cherokee was the pity tribute in this story, I'd say. Terrible life, terrible family, terrible luck. Really, nothing was looking up for her. Honestly, I thought about the idea of getting her somewhere but nothing big came up. I don't think it would've worked out, but I wanted to give her that bit of a boost to stop helping everyone else out and to not feel bad about it. Be more determined for her _own_ life and end up saying screw the rest, giving into who her parents thought she'd be. I figured that it'd tear her up, and it did, in the end. But, she doesn't have to worry about all that anymore. R.I.P.**

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! Bet y'all thought I gave up on this shit/and or was dead. Anyway, nah, both of those are wrong. Tbh, I know it's been almost two months, and there's really no excuse for not updating. Yeah, life gets in the way, but make some time, right? Shit's been busy, but at least I could get this up to you guys. I wanted to update this way back, but I was unmotivated and that went on for a good three weeks. I got a summer job sometime around middle June, and as soon as I got it everyone quit because they were tired of the management there. So there's this manager lady who's not in a lot, but I love her, she's adorable and the nicest person ever, and then there's like her supervisor boss dude who's always in the building and it's annoying af. Only like three of us work there, and he's on my ass like 75% of the time and works me from 1:30-11:30 6 out of 7 days a week and I'm not really down with all that. Got to talk with like everyone who used to work there and they all hate him. Anyway, yeah, bad hours, limited time with friends, family, updating, basketball, everything, basically. Whenever I have my off days, I choose to sleep and be a sloth, but hey, whatever, right?  
**

 **Anyway, I'm quitting in like three days when I get my next paycheck. Should've gave them a notice, but I'm kinda done with filling up everyone's spots for more money. And fr, the money got to my head but I'm out after this week, so more updating and relaxing time, ig. Also, sorry to anyone I reply to late. Kinda lazy, kinda tired, mix of both. This is like my break time rn, still on clock, but I'ma update this because you guys deserve an update and there are no customers and I'm bored. Tomorrow's an off day but I probably won't answer PMs or anything either b/c I'ma just sleep all day. This chapter was fast-paced and bit rushed, as you can tell. Kinda rusty, but whatever, this is satisfactory enough for me, at least. Hope y'all are good with it, too. That's all I gotta say, unless I remember something else and just update it in real quick. Currently 9:18 here, so yeah. Hope y'all are enjoying your nights or whatever time of day it is for you wherever you live. See y'all next chapter ^**


	14. Problems

**Day Two:  
**

* * *

 _Yeah, this type of life, it'll eat you up alive;  
It's a game and you gotta put your feelings to the side._

* * *

 **Eloise Allegro, District Eight  
**

* * *

I drift into consciousness. And then back out. The world's a blur, and random images float aimlessly around the pool of my thoughts, as though they're being forced in.

A momentary gust of wind brings me back to reality for a few seconds, but after some time I catch a grip of myself and force my eyes to remain open. I expect to be greeted by moonlight, but only harsh rays welcome me.

Confusion blossoms in my heart, and I wanna simply lie down my heavy head and retreat into wallowing darkness, but reality smacks me across the face. Groaning, I quietly pick myself up, rub the crust from my eyes, and flick it away. ''That's nasty...''

''Ah, you're up,'' Darren says, sounding relieved.

With a small nod, I tilt my head quickly and roughly so that my neck cracks. ''And so are you. Why is that, exactly?''

Narrowing his eyes, Darren searches for the right words but eventually comes up short. His facial features are incredibly emotionless, almost as if he's some sort of undead creature with no sole purpose in life. ''It's because I didn't wake you up last night.''

Acting as if that's a perfectly understandable excuse, I ponder with my hand pressed under my chin and nod nonchalantly. ''Oh, right. Last I remember, we didn't even speak last night. You kept me away.''

 _Did you think that I wasn't capable of looking out for you?_ I almost ask. He flashes me a forced smile, as if it'll stir my mind away from the topic at hand. ''Come on, El—'' _El, he says._ ''—don't play that card.'' _Useless!_

''You didn't wake me up because you thought I couldn't—''

''I didn't think anything other than that you're my partner and I need to protect you at all times,'' he spits out in that groggy tone of his, catching me by surprise.

I ease up when he finishes his sentence. Everything seems to calm down, and my casual attitude begins to reappear. I strut over towards Darren quickly, trying so hard not to laugh after questioning, ''Take care of me _how_?''

''You're dirty, kid,'' he jokes. The morning atmosphere is so clear, yet it doesn't feel that way. After last night's weather, I can't really complain, though. ''Listen, I'm sorry if I made you feel irrelevant. Your life matters to me just as much as mine does, and if I can stay up the entire night in order to make sure that you're properly rested, then I'm gonna.''

Seating myself next to Darren, I cross my legs together and wrap an arm around his shoulders. ''Hey, tough guy, don't think that you've gotta do everything for me. We're a team. You shouldn't prioritize me when we're supposed to share the burden equally and look out for one another.''

How he stayed up the entire night yesterday, I honestly can't figure out. He made sure that I was comfortable as I slept, but didn't allow me to repay the favor.

''How do you expect us to start the day if you're not in top shape? Look, I'm taking the lead now, okay?'' His lips twitch suddenly, but I abruptly cut him off. ''No! Be quiet. You're gonna go to sleep, and when you wake up, we'll go looking for supplies.''

Staring into his heavy-lidded eyes, I gently guide Darren's head down onto my lap and let it rest there.

''You really are the perfect partner,'' he whispers. My eyes widen from surprise, but I mask my feelings with a confident smile. ''You always put me in serenity and draw me into liking you more than I already do. You've got the most real personality ever, and there's so much more to you that I can't be bothered to list. I definitely hit the pot of gold partner wise.''

Despite all the time in the world that I have to respond to the sweetest words I've ever heard, I decide to hold my tongue and let Darren rest. Instead, I remain lonely, quiet, at peace. A barely audible song of birds passes by my ears and straight into my soul. As if a sign was being sent my way, a strong force of wind bustles through my brown hair and cools my fingers.

Hummingbirds dazzle across the sky, speeding off into the distance. I feel as though my eyes are deceiving me, but I know that they aren't when paths of mud begin to form all around Darren and I. They circle us, creating small spots that form a straight arrow leading at least a mile deep.

Directly underneath me, another one forms, soiling into my long skirt. An annoyed gasp escapes my lips, but that quickly turns into a groan. ''I get it. You want us to follow that, but can we have a moment here? He's sleeping.''

Apparently the Gamemakers are willing to accept my request, because nothing attacks us, no noises hint that a predator is approaching, and the wind begins to slow down. _Hopefully they're not trying to lead us into another group..._ ''Thank you.''

I wonder if he was this bored when I was sleeping. It's only been about twenty minutes and yet I want to get up and go do something; while on the other hand, he had to deal with this for over eight hours.

''Well, at least I've got something to play with,'' I snicker as I dip my finger into the mud, staining the color of my nails and brushing it down to the tip of his nose.

He'll probably wake up wondering why he's got crap all over his face, and that'll make it all the more hilarious.

* * *

 **Lachlan Smith, District Six**

* * *

Lying on my back in a stagnant puddle of water, disguised by the dark mud that my fingers dig into, I hold in a hollow breath and stay as still as a corpse.

Malik slightly levels up his body as a man on a horse turns the corner of the dusty road. There's a streetlamp standing straight, with absolutely no reason of being there other than for decoration. ''No, bro!'' I grit as I grab Malik's wrist, pulling him back down to the ground. ''Dude's got a gun!''

''True, but where the hell is Aspen?'' he retorts, nudging my shoulder seriously. ''If he's caught...''

''He's not gonna get caught,'' I assure. Honestly, though, I'm not entirely sure what Aspen's gonna do – I don't even know where he is. We had one goal: stick together at all costs, but somehow he got lost. _How did we even get caught in a situation like this?!_

Slowly, the man comes to a halt on his horse, his revolver reflecting a metallic shine. Not only is his posture cocky, but the look on his face shows that he has no doubt that he's gonna capture a few tributes today.

''Don't make this harder than need be...'' he coos, smoothly removing himself from the saddle and stomping his boots on the floor. ''Make it easy on yo'selves n' come out.''

Normally this would be a good time to run, but this guy's searching, listening. One movement, one sound, one involuntary gasp and it's all over. And just so we know that the Gamemakers are trying to fuck with us even more, I feel the sting of ants through the water beneath me – and they're not stopping at my ankles.

My mind's on fire as they bite, and so is Malik's; he's furiously trying to fight them off. Fortunately, we're able to keep our limbs quiet enough, but that doesn't mean that Aspen is. In seconds the air becomes rent with his voice – his _scream_ – increasing in volume and pressure over the prairie's tall grass.

 _Idiot!_

''Gotch'ye now!'' Without a moment of hesitation, the man shoots somewhere off into the grass, and with precise accuracy, the bullet rips straight through a huddled portion and forces the green blades to fly open, revealing Aspen's frightened state.

Malik freezes, his eyes twitching with worry. ''What do we do?'' he panics, and I don't blame him for it – none of us have ever been in a situation like this before. Malik's had experience in tough areas with Peacekeepers, but this … it's something entirely different.

Scanning the scene, I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Just as Malik attempts to get up and try to go rescue Aspen, I hold my arm out and stop him.

''Our ally's in danger and you want me to sit back?'' he accuses.

''No, I want you to not make a stupid decision,'' I say, possibly hitting a nerve. ''You've got an axe, he has a gun. What do you expect to accomplish? If anything, you'll get two bullets to the chest and die on sight.''

''So what do you propose we do?''

This all relates to the puzzles that I used to do back in Six. The answer is so simple yet intricate, and the steps needed to accomplish the task at hand have to be drawn out perfectly. ''Drop all of the equipment that we have. Leave me with my blade and turn yourself in. He's not stupid; the man knows you specifically. If he sees the bruises on your body, he'll be easier on you and Aspen. Make yourself look beat and worn out. Once all that's set in stone, that's when I come in.''

It takes a bit of time, but Malik musters up enough trust that he jumps out into the open with his hands held high. I know that it's risky, but it's a chance that we've gotta take. Play by the Capitol's cards and they'll let us live. Maybe this isn't exactly what they had in mind, but it's certainly enough to stir some interest.

The pungent mud that's splattered all over Malik's face is enough for the Capitol-programmed asshole to take out a pair of shackles and approach him. Each step he takes results in foul words coming out of his mouth. ''I'm gonna sell you.'' ''You and your accomplice are gonna be whipped to death.'' ''You'll make me tons of money.''

 _Shut the fuck up, man..._ At this point in time, some tributes might figure that it's best to dip and leave their allies to die, but not me – that thought hasn't crossed my mind 'till now, but I'm not gonna betray them like that.

Malik now has his hands behind his back, and before I can even move, Aspen fucks it all up and charges at the man. ''Leave him alone!'' Whipping around with a sudden burst of speed, the man smacks the top of his handgun against Aspen's forehead, instantly cutting through skin.

Blood begins to drip down to his nose, his breath hitched. ''Dead or alive, I'll still get profit from ye bodies. Fightas always make it betta'.''

''Lachlan!'' Malik screams.

Jolting up from my crowded position, I swipe a small switchblade from my pocket and force the steel to pop out, resulting in a bit of of blood seeping from a wound in my thumb. It's not exactly my ideal weapon, but until sponsors hit us up, it'll have to do.

The man doesn't even expect it when a roar erupts from my mouth and I tackle him onto the rock-filled, bumpy road. Forcefully, I press the palm of my hand against his chin and dig his head into the ground.

I don't know why, but I'm frozen for a moment. That's all it takes before both of my allies are screaming out my name and I get a punch to the temple. Despite the dizziness and sudden feeling of weakness, I still – _barely_ – manage to arch my weapon in a way so that it embeds itself into my opponent's neck.

A gush of red oozes from the pressured wound. I know that he's not a real person – or maybe he is – but this is my first technical kill. If a potential mutt made me freeze, what'll it take for me to actually end someone's life when I'm fighting an actual tribute?

Silence falls over the three of us, but Malik speaks up and congratulates me. ''This was our first successful real life-threatening task completed as a group. Maybe it wasn't executed perfectly, but that was a great plan, Lachlan.''

I shake my head in disbelief. ''No, it wasn't. All three of us were seriously close to dying by the hands of _one_ person.'' Malik puts a hand on my shoulder but I shrug it off. Why? Because we could've done so much better. His job was done well, but mine? No way. ''Seriously, Aspen? You couldn't just wait a second before charging? You wouldn't be bleeding if you just chilled out. You had one job, and that was to stand completely still!''

''I … I didn't know. Jeez, sorry. I wasn't filled in on the plan, you know...''

Waving my hand, I completely ignore my previous statement and berate myself. ''No, you didn't know, but I expected better of you. When your ally's in trouble, you don't make the situation worse by putting yourself in danger as well. But I shouldn't have froze like that. That plan should've been performed without any flaws, yet I made the biggest one and almost cost us our lives...''

''Yo, don't worry about it,'' Malik sighs. ''What's done is done. We're alive, he's dead. Besides, killing isn't easy; I'm sure we all understand that. You can't expect to jump into the Games and take lives without hesitation or remorse. We've gotta get used to it and adapt.''

 _Adapt._ That's a word I always throw around, and look at me now. I adapted, but not in the right way. Now staring down at the lifeless man, a precarious idea pops into my mind. He's got multiple shackles, an entire uniform, a map, and a revolver. _Adapt..._ Out-of-the-box thinking takes place here.

''You think it's possible that three tributes could possibly wander into the nearest town and not be suspected of anything?''

Aspen and Malik stare at each other before turning their puzzled gazes back to me. Guilt bubbles in my stomach because of this procedure, but it could really work. Picking up on how to ride a horse like that won't be easy, but ... it's better than walking.

I can't laugh, but I can smile. There's no reason in holding back as a considerable yet determined look appears on my face when I hold up two pairs of shackles. ''Because I certainly don't. It's just not practical.''

* * *

 **Camille Lussier, District Two**

* * *

Time appears to be flowing like cement. It's only been an hour since Cassian, Aurora and Aether left, but it feels like an eternity. Sitting here with nothing to stare at but a wall with chipped cream paint and a slightly cracked attic window is excruciatingly dull.

Maybe the Gamemakers will provide us with some action by having another skeleton pop out at us, but who knows. Who even cares? It's better to remain patient and wait my turn, like someone with manners would do, instead of groaning and moaning about things that aren't specifically in my control.

''Do you guys wanna talk?'' I ask out loud. Odessa brushes a strand of hair away from her face and stares at me with an uninterested look, while Sota continues to saunter back and forth.

Calmly, Odessa leans backward against a pile of bags. The boredom's probably getting to her, too.''About what?''

''Anything. Personal things, maybe? Like, why'd you guys volunteer?'' I suggest.

''Pass,'' she decides, so much as not even looking back up at me. A shallow sigh escapes from her pretty lips, one that tells me that she's no longer even giving me a chance to communicate.

No, no, no. This girl's too useful for me to just let her go like that. If I can somehow get her to grow a close relationship with me, everything will fall into place. ''Fine. How about we play a game like … like spin the bottle! Err ... or spin the knife?''

In a careless manner, she puts the idea aside by sarcastically saying, ''I'd rather wait until the whole gang is here to lock lips with you hotties.''

Wiping my hand down the side of my face, I then turn to Sota. ''And you?''

''Nah, I think I'm good,'' he excuses. Before I know it, he's already climbing down the staircase that leads up to here. The creaking sound of his hunting boots slapping against the railing is enough to make Odessa hunch up a little. ''Sorry, I just … I'm gonna go take a nap. My head's been hurting lately.''

''Go ahead, kid.'' Gesturing for him to leave, Odessa adds, ''We've got the supplies covered. Take a water bottle just in case you get thirsty.''

Once he's gone, it's just me and my soon-to-be best friend all alone together. I gently slip off my sandals and stride towards her with only 'good' intentions, I suppose. ''Mind if I sit next to you?''

''I don't see why not.''

''Hey,'' I start, ''I guess that talking isn't your thing, but can we just acknowledge that Sota got the first and _only_ kill of the Games so far? And that it was _his_ idea to go out and trek for a bit.''

''Yeah, and what about it?'' Clearly, I've got no control over this conversation so far; she continues to stray herself away from my point. ''He's a Career – he should be prepared for things like this. He did his job, and he deserves the credit.''

''Yeah, but only _one_ person died. I don't mean to downplay his success, but us – as a group – achieved nothing satisfactory yesterday.'' Crossing my arms together and resting them under my sternum, I then finally take my seat next to Odessa – a bit closer than she'd like, I assume. ''Besides, I know it's still early and all, but I think he might be cracking.''

''That's our fault, not his – we should've done more and searched further as a group, or each split up and took different sections of that prairie instead of sticking together. And what do you mean by cracking?''

''Like, he might be having second thoughts. He's not his usual self, and ever since last night he's been acting differently,'' I point out. Her face softens a little bit, almost as if she's seeing the clear picture here. ''Killing that girl might've gotten to his head. Sota's just not fit for this.''

Odessa raises her arms up in a shrug, but then she nearly snickers to herself. ''Well, that sounds like a personal problem to me. If he's not fit for it, then that's his life. I'm not afraid to say that it's beneficial to the rest of us because this is a competition, but still, he's our ally. Either way, he's provided a kill and secured his spot as someone who's willing to do what it takes, but if he dies, or chokes … then that opens up more opportunities for us.''

 _You're getting there._ I can't help but smile to myself and spring up with anticipation of getting this girl – a major threat – to be on my side. ''Right?!'' I'm barely able to keep my voice under a steady volume. ''This is why I think you're gonna go far. You've got the right mentality and the right way of setting your foot in this Game.''

Now crouching in front of her, I place one hand on her shoulder and the other on her cheek. Her reflexes are quick, as she immediately pushes my left arm away and locks the other one in a tight hold – not enough to hurt me, but also not enough to let me escape.

It doesn't take any words for her to let me go. _Guess she's not someone who likes to be touched._ ''But I'm not here to talk about Sota. I'm here because I think that when things go south, you and I can come out of this alliance alive and well. If— no, _when_ we split, I want you and me to be the only two posing a threat.''

She shifts in her position uncomfortably and sits up straight, kind of like she's attempting to get up and run. But instead, she questions, ''What are your intentions?''

''Honestly, I just wanna get to know you better. It seems weird, I know, but me and you could destroy the other competitors,'' I lie, only somewhat. ''Cassian and Sota are too foolish, Aurora hasn't shown anything special, and Aethor's still a question mark. But you and me, we got this. Don't you think?''

''If that's the case, then what's up with that personal shit that you were asking earlier?'' Her eyes narrow in a cold manner, and her brows line up ferociously.

Even though I'm not necessarily running out of things to say, I'm just tired of this topic. ''That's the only way that I can get to know you. I'm sure there are other questions that you'd be willing to answer, but how else do you expect me and you to bond?''

As I hold out my right hand for her to shake, I also bring my left hand into the equation and lock my pinky fingers together.

''Our friendship throughout the course of these Games is gonna be _this_ strong.''

* * *

 **Sebastian Hammond, District Five**

* * *

There's a crunch of gravel that my ears pick up, the defined sound of a footstep clear as day. How Pavel and Mackenzie haven't picked up on this yet, I'm not quite sure.

Again, there comes another crunch, this time lighter and a bit slower. Whoever's trailing is trying so hard not to make any noises. What for, though? To sneak up on us? To track our movements and see what we're gonna do?

''Who's out there?'' I shout, despite having a weird feeling in my stomach.

Pavel comes to a sudden halt and turns around. ''I thought I was hearing things, but someone's actually been following us, huh?''

''Yes! Ever since yesterday evening,'' I clarify. ''You guys are unbelievable. We're lucky that they didn't kill us last night! They could've ended us then and there..!''

''But they didn't.'' Mackenzie says quietly. ''And if you heard them yesterday, why didn't you say anything? If we died, it would've been your fault.''

Cutting through my response, Pavel places his hand against my chest and pushes me behind him. Following suit, he does the same to Mackenzie, as if this is some sort of way to guarantee our safety.

''What the heck are you doing?'' I begin to take a few steps backward, more towards a path that leads in between a divided row of bushes instead of the dirt routes that split into three different directions. ''You trying to save us, buddy? Hate to break it to you, but we have absolutely _nothing!_ What are you gonna do when we have no weapons? Fight an armed tribute or mutt with your hands?!''

Already... We haven't even fully begun the Games and we're already in a predicament. Both of my legs are twitching, ready to take flight and get out of here before whatever's out there strikes.

One death yesterday wasn't enough for them, I get that, but I'm sure not gonna be the second, or the third, or the fourth... I don't wanna be _any_ of the deaths, in fact! I wanna get out of this arena and go on to do something – _anything_ – with my life.

''Sebastian?'' Mackenzie turns to me with a puzzled look on his face. ''Why are you twitching? You're scaring me...''

 _With life already being terrible as it is, I had to be thrown in here. Anything would've blessed me. A new home for my family, a new pair of clothes, a new lifestyle. But no, here I am. Here_ —

Sudden, erratic footsteps jump out at me, racing forward. I take my first step as I turn, but a feminine voice yells at me. ''Hold up, hold up!'' Leaping at me, the feeling of wind coming off of another person's body and on to me growing noticeable, something clutches my wrist with soft hands. Nails lightly scratch into my skin – nothing serious – but it's enough to grab my attention.

''Do not run away!'' I stare up at Krissy, my eyes wide. Krissy? But...

''I thought you left the alliance?'' Things aren't making sense at all. ''Pavel said that you had _better_ offers.''

''That's not—'' she pauses, ''—okay, maybe that's true, but I wasn't gonna leave you guys. We're allies, right?''

''I dunno. Do allies stalk each other and wait until someone's about to flee to show themselves?'' This is the most serious that I've ever heard Mackenzie be.

Pavel grabs Krissy by the shoulders and pulls her off to the side. The two of them go back-and-forth for a few minutes. They're not arguing, but it's something personal, I feel. Mackenzie and I seem to have the same idea in mind, as we both take a step closer to them in order to eavesdrop.

Mackenzie reaches them first, and I'm ready to stick my nose into their business until a brilliant shock of white rips through the graphite sky, forking silently to the unsuspecting ground. _Something's coming._

''It's good to have you back,'' I hear Pavel say. They make up, and everything's back to normal, I guess, considering that Pavel told us that she was for sure leaving. ''We need someone with medical knowledge like you. We need someone like you period. Sorry about all the shit from before.''

Krissy waves her hand and dismisses Pavel's words. ''Don't worry about it. As long as we're all okay—''

''Okay, we're all fine and dandy, yeah, that's good and all, but I think you guys are missing the bigger picture here. It's awesome that we've got someone who knows her stuff, but what is she going to do with no supplies when one of us gets hurt? What are _we_ going to do? We have no food, no water, no weapons, no bandages, no nothing! But hey, it's all good because we've got a former nurse on our team, right?!''

''So what do you suggest, huh? What's your solution to this mess?'' It's to no surprise that Krissy's got a hint of annoyance in her voice. We're in the Hunger Games, and as her allies, we kept her out. Still, though...

A chilly gust of air crawls down my spine, causing goosebumps to grow on my body. We need to get out of this weather and find some sort of small haven that's actually hospitable and is stacked with at least something useful for us to use.

My stomach growls, and I squirm in my stance in order to silence the grumbling. ''I don't know.'' She purses her lips and turns away from me. From my peripheral vision, I spot Mackenzie staring at me.

''You're hungry, too?'' he whispers.

I don't even get a second to nod my head when a thunderous boom screeches in the atmosphere – most likely coming from the bolt of lightning that I saw earlier. For some reason, I just feel that this is a warning call to get going.

''We need to move and find somewhere to stay for the night!'' Yes, I'm frightened. Yes, I'm distraught. Yes, I'm pessimistic.

Yes, I'm bitter and intrusive. But one thing I'm not...

Everyone else nods their heads in unison, all set on seeking shelter before this storm comes. There's one and only one thing to do in a circumstance like this, and I'm glad that we're all smart enough to admit it.

...is ready to die.

* * *

 **Imogen Pryor, District Five**

* * *

Chattering resounds from the dining room of Mr. Hepiner's vintage home. It's like a festival in there. Everyone – from his wife and children to the numerous amounts of guests that they have over – are all indulging in more food than I've ever seen in my entire life.

While they're out there having fun and celebrating the arrival of his two new slaves, Chayona and I are forced to work as maids and serve them. Unfortunately, we're not getting anything ourselves. In fact, I'm starving...

My stomach does ecstatic cartwheels as I turn my eyes upon the row of frosty desserts. On the counter adjacent to me lies muffins covered in chocolate cream, ruby-red cherry pies, and so much more. My mouth starts foaming uncontrollably, and eagerly, I grab a spoon so that I can reach for the delicacies.

''No shot, Imogen,'' Chayona hisses quietly, softly slapping my hand away from the silverware. ''He's gonna get mad if he finds out that the food's been tampered with.''

I laugh off Chayona's words and place both of my fists on my hips, slightly tilting my head to the side with a half-smile. ''C'mon, he's not gonna know. Stop being so worried. I'll only eat a little. Besides, aren't you hungry, too?''

Her face contorts into a look of agreement, but she still isn't budging. ''Yeah, but we'll get something to eat soon enough. We can't be working for free … right?'' After a moment of silence, she continues. ''Plus, he might! We don't know how observant he is. He could be looking for a bit of frosting on your white apron, or even take a good, long look at whatever he asks us to bring out to him.''

''Speaking of white aprons, how do you feel about wearing this stuff?'' I ask, trying to loosen the laces that reside under my boobs. ''Seriously, these buttons are too tight and this collar is itchy; and these gloves are ridiculously baggy. How does he expect us to work in this outfit?''

''Can you please explain to me how you're so unperturbed? We're in the Hunger Games, have been kidnapped and sold, and are being forced to do the work around this man's house, yet you remain calm.''

Come to think of it, there's not really a clear answer as to why I'm not bothered by all this. ''Guess I'm just not used to the hardships, that's all. Plus, I'm not dead yet, am I? He's not beating me, nor is anyone in his family. The way they talk to us is absolute shit, but we're still breathing and well, right?''

She nods her head lightly, relaxing a little bit. ''But if we were in some sort of danger, then it'd be a completely different story. If that were the case, then I think we'd have to kill these people and set out. But that's for another day and another time. Say it does come down to that, though, how do you figure we'd—''

''Okay, I get it,'' Chayona laughs, ''you've explained it well enough. No need to carry on much more than needed.''

Now leaning against the same counter that she warned me not to approach, I watch as she takes in a deep breathe and exhales soundly. Suddenly, the reason why we we're being forced to wear these outfits dawns in on me. Or, at least why _she_ was forced to wear this. She's oblivious to it, but Mr. Hepiner clearly isn't.

''Um, you sure you're okay with wearing this outfit?'' It's hilarious but creepy at the same time. Those Capitolites have always been perverts who were ready to take advantage of any tribute when they sought the opportunity. Mr. Hepiner's got three sons, all teenagers – and we're two teenage girls, forced to wear sexy outfits that reveal our bodies. I wonder why...

''What do you mean?'' she inquires.

''Ain't it obvious?'' Approaching her, I stare down at her busty chest and try my hardest to subdue my laughter. ''Your 'assets' are the reason why we're wearing this.''

''My... M-My what?!''

''Anyone ever told you that you have extremely notable cleavage? Girl, you're packed, aren't you?'' Chayona instantly reacts by crossing her arms over her chest. ''Don't be shy about it! A lot of people wish that they could have your body.''

''Thanks … I-I guess. My sister Abby always brought it up, but it's still embarrassing, you kn—?''

Mr. Hepiner forcefully swings the kitchen door open and storms into the room. ''Lackin' in here, ain't ya, you foolish goops!'' Both of us grow silent, and I was just about to tease her and have some fun, too. ''I ordered y'all out minutes ago! Hurry up! The guesses is waitin' on y'all two. Can't y'all cook with gas for once?!''

 _Cook with gas..?_ ''Yes, Sir.'' Chayona speaks up. ''We didn't hear you before, but we'll be out as soon as possible.''

Before exiting the room, he turns to face us once more and says, ''Bring out all the sweets, you fine wines!'' Just when we think it's over, he adds more fuel to the fire. ''And I ain't gon' tell ya again – call me 'Massa'.''

Chayona and I pick up as many tasty dainties as we can, but we'll have to come back for the rest – which will only infuriate this asshole more. I struggle to align the plates properly, and I know that it's ridiculous, but these things weigh more than you'd expect them to. Thankfully, Chayona's here to help me.

I guide the two of us forward and hold the door open with my back. There's a large crowd outside, all huddled around the table with their fingers intertwined. Chayona gets ready to set down the plates, but then something happens.

One of Mr. Hepiner's sons sticks out his leg and trips Chayona. Everything goes flying – the food, the silverware, the platters, her. Some dishes crack against the tiled floors, and some of the sweets splatter all over the guests.

A collective gasp rumbles around the room. With lightning speed, Mr. Hepiner unbuckles the belt that holds his jeans up and lashes it at her back while she lies on the floor. As much as I want to stop it, I can't..!

''He tripped her!'' I scream.

''Dont'cha dare accuse my son of something your ungrateful partner did!'' The veins in his head threaten to pop, but to me, they only show how much I wanna grab him by the throat and throttle him until they do! But then he maliciously threatens, ''Talk again 'n I'll hang her..! Talk again 'n I'll hang the bof of y'all..!''

Minutes pass by before the assault stops. She lies there on the floor whimpering and gasping for breath, blood seeping beneath her skin, bones fractured from the repetitive slaps and constant stomping. There won't be any help, any evidence, and now we're stuck here unless we run away. But she needs a doctor, and he certainly won't listen to me if I mention it kindly – not even if I plead.

 _How did the mood do a complete flip? It makes no sense!_

My fingers jump almost rhythmically to cover my mouth, as if I just had a spasm. M-My legs gently fold, making it hard for me not to subside on the floor. _Oh, God, no..._ The only explanation that I have for such a quick form of violence is that today was lacking, so something needed to happen... Someone needed to get hurt... And, unfortunately, it was her that the straw landed on. Nothing can be done about it, either, which is the worst part.

...And that's reality sinking in.

* * *

 **No Deaths  
**

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! So, it's been a minute, and I have no excuses, really. Senior year of HS started, hasn't been bad at all when it comes to homework and tests and stuff, but I'm not gonna lie, it kinda sucks. Everyone leaves at different times so it's not as lit as it used to be, and the squad groups up only in the mornings, but getting out early and going to eat and just fool around for a few hours is great for my soul. Anyway, I think y'all know. If not, now ya do. There's this massive ass hurricane heading towards Florida, and I live in downtown Miami, so this shit's absolutely about to body my city no matter what happens. Looks like it's aiming directly at us, so. Honestly, after hearing about the news, updating was the last thing to cross my mind, but I thought, ''Why not get one more in before ... all this?'' What sucks is that I really just started getting back into the groove and was so ready to get these chapters up quick and everything, too. What's worse is that Irma's little brother Jose just formed into a category 3 and I have no idea whether or not that's gonna be hitting us, too, and collecting its sloppy seconds. Basically, the entire State of Florida is getting bodied by this hoe.  
**

 **I don't really have much to say. Honestly, I just gotta blast. This could be the last chapter for a while depending on what path this thing takes. I'm just hoping for the best. There's no doubt that it's gonna flood here, and these winds are gonna cause a lot of damage, but I can only hope and pray that it doesn't destroy my house and rip off the roofs like it did in the Caribbean, and that deaths aren't high. With a storm like this, it's unfortunate but honest to say that there'll be fatalities. And I hate saying shit like this because I'm not a focus on the number of deaths type of person and always hope that life lasts a while, but I dunno. Kinda ironic for someone who writes about the Hunger Games, ain't it? Either way, it'll be some time 'till the next update, but that's nothing new. Kinda scared, kinda lost for words. This thing's as big as Texas, so I'm just ... aye? Honestly, a ton of Floridians take hurricanes as a joke because it's been a minute since one actually fucked us up as bad as Andrew did. Last one to actually hit was Hermine, I think, and that wasn't too bad. Guess this is Matthew's sister coming for revenge after we joked on him for missing?**

 **Anyway, yeah, that's really all for now, I guess. Don't know what's gonna happen, but hey. I'd love for Irma to do a yeet and completely flip back over to the Atlantic Ocean, but I've been wishing for that ever since this thing formed. Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, and same goes for your day, night, afternoon, whatever. I'll see y'all next chapter ^**


	15. Slippery

**Day Three:**

* * *

 _Don't go where the path may lead,  
Go instead where there is no path  
And leave a trail._

* * *

 **Lucretia Hanover, District Six**

* * *

The wind is relentless and shows no sign of quitting. I can hear objects being lifted up and smacked down onto the grass that is my shelter. The Gamemakers' onslaught blows erratically against my skin like the wind did when we toured around the Capitol during the chariot rides, except this time it's a hundred times more rough.

My hair's become a flag now, like a wild jungle – untamable and unruly. The once stunning golden ringlets that covered my scalp now vaguely resemble a harassed bird's nest. As I continue to take more steps forward, the wind attempts to rock me back on my heels.

I just hope that I'm lucky enough to manage through this unscathed. Actually, you know what? I _should_ get out of this alive and well. Out of all the people in this arena that are deserving of this type of treatment, I should be the absolute _last_ person to cross anyone's mind.

All those less interesting idiots should be the ones with their lives put in danger, not me! Hell, I can barely even fully comprehend what I'm trying to say because of all this noise! This wind … it doesn't even howl; it _screams._

I keep my eyes shut in order to avoid getting hit by the violent dust – more likely an involuntary action than a voluntary one – but even if I could open them I wouldn't. My senses are already overloading my mind, and one more certainly wouldn't help.

Still, I'm gonna persist. Even as my lungs burn from exhaustion, I keep walking. My sandals sloppily slap against the soil, and the grass tickles at my ankles. ''Come on, girl, they're just guiding you.'' _They are, aren't they? What other choice do they have other than to help a fan-favorite out? They'd be idiots to let me stumble around blind._ ''Keep walking – just keep walki—''

A sharp, deep pain throbs at the side of my lower abdomen as I fumble forward and land on something unfriendly, eliciting an unintended gasp from me. It's warm, but not in a good way – not at all. It feels like someone just stuck their hand through me and started squeezing my organs as hard as they could. For a few seconds, my mind simply clamors for the pain relief to come. Finally, I'm able to move again after it wanes.

I breathe slow and extensive before forcing my eyes open. There's no blood anywhere, but as I lift up my plaid button-down, I find that my side is purple and bruised heavily. Every time I touch it, it feels like a needle in being stabbed into my innards.

''Seriously,'' I say, regretting the idea of letting the Gamemakers dictate my movements, ''you guys couldn't have given me a sign? You idiots need pick your targets wisely and stop fucking with the real competitors!''

What makes this scenario worse is that I collected absolutely nothing from the cornucopia except for a small ass tactical knife. My human shields all escaped. Honestly, it was a get in, grab the first thing I saw and get out type of thing. If I had some actual protection, I wouldn't be out here getting hurt.

''Maybe you people should start sponsoring me some gear instead of shepherding me towards … fucking boulders!'' I scream, ignoring the weather altogether. ''I find it ridiculous that you people dare—!''

''Who's out there..?!''

Are my ears deceiving me? Yeah. Yeah, they have to be... Since the Gamemakers find it funny to steer me into a partially buried rock, I wouldn't put it past them to play a soft voice in order to make me go mad.

''Can you help me..? I-I-I'm … I need to get these chains off!''

There it is again. Ultimately, I decide to ignore the sound and keep still for a little bit. The winds are only picking up more in strength, so I wouldn't be surprised if I were to be picked up and flung across outskirts.

In the far view, I catch sight of a few silhouettes. There's a mix of masculine and feminine shapes, but it appears that all the females are carrying heavy objects over their heads while the men are pushing some sort of wheelbarrow. Although they're far away, I can still hear the squeaking that emits from the cart-like structure.

 _Are those mutts?_ ''Shit.''

''I'm serious! Is anyone out there?!'' Turns out there actually _is_ someone here. Another tribute, by the sound of it. A girl with curly brown hair and a short, chocolate brown plaid blouse jumps out from behind the large rock that I'm positioned against.

She's bound so heavily with chains like nothing I've ever seen before. Then again, I've never actually seen anyone locked up like that. The cuffs are so long that they wound all around her body, with one ring attached to her neck, and two irons reaching to her waist; along with two manacles fastened to them. Both of her hands are secured by a large padlock, and judging by how tight they look, I'd say that she can't raise her arms anywhere past her chest, nor can she lower her head too far down.

If anything, they'd end up choking her if she took one wrong move. Her eyes, as of this current moment, appear to be closed. Taking this as some sort of chance, I hurry up and scoot away from the line of sight.

In a failing attempt to try and hide my timorous disgust, I'm barely able to hold back my scowl. I see how horribly those chains are digging into the girl's skin, how hurt and beat she looks. No detail misses my eyes. I'm the type of person who hates easily, but I know _true_ evil when I see it.

 _Stop it. She's a tribute... She's lesser than you, dammit!_

My mind's right. After all these years, I still couldn't care any less for someone so dirty and lame – and she's no exception. I'm not gonna lie, though, it's sickening that the Gamemakers want me to take care of this. Someone so pitiful; someone who should've been dead a long time ago.

Still... With my face utterly blank, I sickly reach into the top of my skirt knot and grab the handle of the expensive black plastic. Father always taught me how to be a proper girl, how to never dirty my hands, but it looks like I've gotta be naughty for five minutes.

For a moment, I'm lost, imagining the blood of someone else soaking on a weapon that I wield. There's no way to conceal how ready but uncomfortable I am with this task.

But I distinctly understand that this knife is my ticket to eliminating the competition.

* * *

 **Aaliyah Ransier, District Eleven**

* * *

It's a stretch to believe that anyone would help me, but I need these chains off. One way or another, I'm gonna get the hell out of these shackles.

I walk over the damp grass, my legs heaving forward against the pressure that's building in my chest. The wind continues to smack me, adding more to the heavy chains that already restrict me. With my eyes squinted, I let in enough light to navigate – and to spot a girl ducking behind a large rock. The one that I was pressed up against earlier.

''Wait, please!'' I call out, never slackening my pace. Each step takes me closer to her, even though I have no idea what to expect. I don't _need_ her, but if she has something that can get me out of these things then I'd greatly appreciate it. And if she doesn't...

Honestly, I hate this. Me relying on her isn't fitting for my personality – it's not fitting for me period. If everything goes according to plan, then I'll ask her to let me go. We can easily walk away from this situation without any bloodshed. I might even play the innocent girl and act weak just for the advantage.

''Seriously, I need your—'' The blonde-haired beauty comes out, her skinny limbs and baggy skirt being tousled by the heavy breeze. One hand lies limply by her thigh, but the other one is behind her back. _Something's off._ She doesn't look like someone I'd want to associate with, only because of the menacing sneer she lets out. ''Hey..! Do you think that you could—''

She lunges at me with brute force, a lethal knife in her now revealed hand. ''Whoa!'' Her arm swings forward, aiming straight for my cheek. As quick as I possibly can, I squat down and try to reel backwards. Regrettably, I start to lose my balance, and in an attempt to regain it I throw my hands forward, momentarily forgetting that I'm legit locked!

The chains yank forward, gripping my throat harder and forcing a struggled gasp to resound from my lips. Her offensive charge doesn't stop, as she's in my face in the matter of seconds. ''Please—!''

Before I can react, a clenched fist slams into my nose, sending my nerves on edge. Pain spreads all around my face, the blood leaking as soon as she retracts her arm. As I take a closer look at the girl, I realize that she's the one from Six – the one who was acting entitled during her interview.

 _Am I really gonna be bested by her, all because I didn't run away? That should've been my first natural instinct, to get out before she found me. But no, I just had to seek a way, didn't I?_

In the end, it's not dying that scares me – although, that is a huge factor – but it's the pain. The pain of knowing that my District is perfectly fine with the idea of me dying all because of my relationships. And if I fight back for my life, they'll say that I truly am just like my brothers.

I've been hated for things that weren't under my control for far too long, and at last, I think I've finally reached my melting point. Who cares if they hate me? Who cares if I'm forever shunned? Who cares what happens anymore? I just wanna live.

Another attack hits. This time it's the hilt of the knife, butting into my neck, and then my right cheek. My eyesight blurs, but not because of the tears welling up in them. Everything becomes fuzzy, and soon enough, I might not be seeing anything at all.

Throughout this fight, the only thing that I manage to hear are my heartbeats pounding loudly, echoing in my ears, alongside fading taunts from this girl.

But I'm not ready … I'm not ready to meet my mom just yet; I'm not ready to die just yet; I'm not ready to give up just yet.

Somehow, someway, I throw my hands up, ignoring the pain that tightens up against my neck, and gasp as I feel the blade of her knife coldly stab the iron chain. Bile begins to build up, almost threatening to be released, but I push it back down.

What's her name lets out a tired moan. ''Why don't you just accept that you're gonna die?'' she screams, continuing to swing. ''People like you don't win the Games! Why can't you understand that it's better for you to just drop dead?!''

Forcing my eyes open, I quickly step to the side and avoid the _swoosh_ of her weapon. ''Because I don't wanna die. I'm not some weak little girl that can't do anything for herself.''

''Oh, cut the bullshit! I figured that you'd be the type to give some cliché ass excuse!'' She staggers forward in her footsteps, swinging her knife sloppily. Beyond a cocky laugh, she doesn't notice that I'm studying her movements. She doesn't notice that I figured out that she has no idea how to use that weapon. ''People like you deserve to die! When will dumbasses like you get it through your thick skulls? Not everyone gets a happy ending!''

 _It's now or never._

Bracing myself for her next attack, I duck my head underneath her swing and throw both arms up, contradicting the motion of where my choker chain and shackles are supposed to go. It hurts so much as they tighten, forcing the tears to spill. A sharp pain flares in my wrist, thick blood flowing freely through the wound.

Despite the scream that bursts from my lungs, I continue forward. Judging by the way the girl stopped moving, she either didn't expect for the attack to land or thought that I would quit. ''What the—!''

Both of my arms wrap around her neck, the strong iron locking tight against her Adam's apple. Quickly, I position myself behind her and throw my body downward, dragging her along with me, the knife falling loose from the palm of her hand. The thing about these chains is that if I move my limbs forward, they'll hurt me. But if I pull them backwards...

She sinks to her back, lying on top of me. In a desperate attempt to stop her from escaping, I wrap both of legs around her abdomen and hold still. She tries to scream, convulsing like an enraged toddler before me. Her struggling attacks last long – longer than I'd have liked, but it's worth it in the end.

Instead of it being mine, her cannon sounds, permanently marking the end of her life. _Good._ Even after the blast fades, I hold on still, just to make sure. When I let go, her body lies still on top of me, and I can't get her off.

The cascade of her life source gushes out from her neck lazily in one direction, the scarlet liquid landing on my arms. Her head leans to the side, and only then do I see how much of a vice-like grip that I had on her. A disgusting, brutal indentation is left so deep that I'm shocked her head didn't fall off.

I … I don't know how to feel about this. _Murder. Death._ Who would've thought that I'd be the one to inflict it upon another person?

''Are you happy?'' I shout, feeling disgusted but proud of myself at the same time. I could've made a bond with that girl during my time in the Capitol, but instead I took her life a few days later. My only wish is to stray away from the way that people see me, but killing her only pushed me into a deeper hole. And, you know what? I don't care. I really don't! ''You're finally seeing my true colors, aren't you?!''

Suddenly, footsteps begin to approach me. Forcefully, and in an act of panic, I attempt to push the lifeless girl off of me but to no avail. Her knife is ten feet away, but I can't reach it.

In an endeavor to concentrate and get the job done, I'm just about ready to barrel myself a few feet over, until something presses up against my wrist. I nearly cry aloud as I peer over and find a dirty, ripped-up boot pushing my arm into the ground. Multiple people hover over me, staring down with confusion in their eyes.

''Please,'' I say, my voice dim and low. My chest rises and falls weakly, and all of my efforts are in vain because of how winded I am. ''...please.''

* * *

 **Natalie Needle, District Seven**

* * *

Lately it's been peaceful. I can't really speak for Millet, but I love it like this. We haven't seen a tribute since we left the cornucopia, which is good. Hopefully the others are gonna end up going at each others' throats soon. It's a terrible thing to wish for, but that would be beneficial in the long-run.

The competition needs to dwindle some way or another, and if that can happen without the two of us getting caught in it, then I'm all game.

 _Guess we're being blessed for good behavior._

With one hand locked around a backpack strap and the other reaching into my pocket, I cautiously look up at the sky, squinting my eyes to protect them from the blazing sun. As soon as my searching fingers make contact with the leading edge of my boomerang – the one that I've had ever since I was a little girl – nostalgia takes over my system.

I miss my family. Remembering them keeps me at peace. Not to say that Millet doesn't, because our relationship has grown and I can honestly call him a brother even after knowing him for only a few days. But family life was better than being stuck in an arena with no sort of tracking.

Dad, Mom … I miss how amazing they worked together. How much they cared for giving us a good life; how easy it was for us to rack up income for things like food and water and clothing, all by selling decorative crafts to wealthy citizens and Capitolites.

I miss my sister Nicole's outgoing and harmless personality; I miss my brother Neil's hyperactive and violent temperament, even if I constantly warned him that he'd get his due soon enough; I miss my best friend Juniper's free-spirited nature and how much she loved the outdoors – if she were in the arena right now, she'd be so relaxed by this scenery.

A sigh escapes my parted lips, and a small tear threatens to spill from the bottom of my eye. ''Did you say something?'' Millet ventures. He surveys me up and down, a curious smile on his face. Just then do I realize that I stopped dead in my tracks and let him carry on without me. ''Need to talk about something? You know I'm all ears.''

As dull as it currently is walking in silence, I decide against bringing up my personal matters with him. ''No thanks.'' He stands there for a couple of seconds, saying that it might be a good time to take a break from our journey. I take a seat, and he companies me.

Millet leans back on the railroad, retracting his legs and stretching in a way that doesn't avoid my personal space. He catches me looking and grants a cheeky smile, something I've yet to see him do until now. _What a guy._

Now taking off the backpack that hangs on my left shoulder, I reach into it and look for a container of some type of liquid while avoiding the extra knives that I collected. My hands grasp two bottles – one with water, and the other providing regular milk.

I frown when I raise the bottle of water up to my face and stare at it. ''Why can't we drink the water again?''

''It's not filtered,'' he answers, peering up just a little bit. ''We need to boil it. To be honest, you're better off drinking the milk anyway. It's be better to save our water for when we're really in need of it.''

''Hmm. And what happens if I drink the unfiltered water?'' I inquire.

Slightly amused yet slightly concerned, he shrugs his shoulders casually. ''Oh, you know. Just regular acute conditions that drinking contaminants will do to you – give you diarrhea, make you vomit, irritate your skin and eyes. The usual.'' He and I share a much needed laugh together. As soon as our voices die down, though, he says, ''Seriously, though, don't do it.''

Nodding, I toss the canister of water back into my bag and listen to the sound of it splashing softly. Without another word, I open up the container of milk and eye it for a moment before gingerly swallowing the lukewarm liquid, allowing it to remove all the dryness from my mouth and soften my throat, as well as also burn my insides slightly.

''Hey, Mill,'' I speak up, drawing him from his untroubled state. Usually I don't initiate conversations, and he typically isn't this open, but I feel like talking to him will help get my mind off of things. He offered to speak earlier, so I figure it's not too late. ''I guess I do wanna talk for a bit, if that's not a problem with you?''

''Sure. Lay it on—'' Millet stops quickly and studies me. I'm about to ask him what he's staring at, but then he leans in closer, removes the wire-frame glasses from my eyes, and asks, ''Why are you crying?''

My cheeks instantaneously turn bright red from embarrassment, but it's no use to pretend that the tears aren't there. After about an hour of us simply chatting, I feel like something heavy has just been lifted off of my chest. I told him about how much I miss home, how much I wanna go back, and he told me how he had a sister back in Nine waiting for him. When he spoke about his mother being deceased, I told him I was sorry. Words of his father didn't come, but I could tell that there was someone else that was important, and I figure that it's him.

Not to mention that I also learned a few things about Millet. This mature and authoritative boy also has a caring and tender side to him that he apparently only shows to people that he really cares about; he even displays his emotions to them. Truthfully, I'm happy that it ended up being him that I decided to team up with.

The quiet atmosphere puts me at ease, but then I feel something shaking. Placing one hand on the tracks and another in the air, I sense the movement that approaches quickly. Millet recognizes it at the same time that I do and jumps up to his feet, whispering, ''Train?''

''Mm-hmm.'' Nodding my head, I frantically look around and try to think of a way out. It's so obvious, but in a time like this it's difficult to think properly. Forcefully, I grab Millet's hand and encourage, ''We gotta turn back.''

Frightfully, he shakes his head and uses his other hand to point behind me. When I turn around, I see a group of men with white button-downs, trousers, dressing boots, sun hats, and whips glaring at us. Behind them is a row of people, all with different skin colors, bounded together by some extensive, weird-looking chain.

''We're gonna jump, Natalie,'' he orders, not suggests. _What did I do? What did either of us do? How could we be faced with a double threat? It makes no sense._ ''Natalie!''

From my peripheral vision, I can make out Millet picking up my glasses and our multiple bags. Even while all this is going on, I just can't put my finger to how or why we're being messed with. Did we do something the Gamemakers didn't like? Does karma feel that we're deserving of repercussions, even though I can't recall us doing anything noteworthy? Are they just screwing with us on purpose?!

 _ **''Natalie!''**_ His voice is so raw, so powerful. It immediately snaps me out of my thought process, but I'm once again lost when I hear the raucous, metallic shriek that comes from the decrepit carriage that soon appears. Despite how trashy the train looks, it defies its faltering shape – all corroded by iron.

Millet's charging footsteps get closer to me, and they show no sign of stopping soon. In a matter of seconds he's right beside me, his arm stretched out to pull me closer to him, but instead of wrapping it around my waist like I expected him to, his arm presses up against my stomach, his boots lose grip – or so it seems – and he goes flying off of the train tracks.

His face contorts from a look of confidence, to worry, and then to horror. I can only imagine what I look like right now. Before I know it, I'm tackled by one of the men from behind and pushed off, as well. As we fall off the tracks, I notice that we're descending down a different path from Millet; he's gonna land straight into the water, but I'm gonna land somewhere on the hills and be crippled.

''What happened, Millet?!'' I scream, furious with myself – furious with him. I know that he didn't jump off on purpose, but my mind keeps convincing me otherwise. Our promises... ''What happened to protecting each other at all costs?! What happened to our alliance?!''

Unexpectedly, my body lands, but not as rough as I was preparing for. Instead, I'm on top of the man from earlier, slowly rolling off. There's an aching pain that surges … _everywhere_ , but at least I'm not dead. I can't say the same for whoever that is behind me. His neck is twisted at an awkward angle, and he's completely still.

Finally, a splash comes – a loud, terrifying one. I don't know how Millet landed – I don't even know if he can swim, for goodness' sake – but a cannon follows shortly after.

T-That's just a coincidence, right? It has to be... We never did anything wrong. Unfortunately, my body begins to grow tired, and I can barely move. The air is several degrees cooler than it was before, and I begin to shiver. A sudden noise of metal lightly smacking against metal occupies my hearing, accompanied by low, grieving mutters.

 _Great._ The tears well up once again behind my eyelids, slowly slipping down my cheeks without resistance. It shakes me to my core and my shoulders heave uncontrollably.

Millet might be dead, and I'm gonna end up starting back at phase one. _Kidnapped again._ I can't even hold back the drool that slowly drips across my cheeks. ''Are you kidding me..?''

 _What a fucking joke._

* * *

 **Aspen Northill, District Twelve**

* * *

Who would've thought that Lachlan's plan would actually work. I mean, him pretending to be one of those hunters and placing both Malik and me in chains was genius – we fit right into the crowd, and no-one even took a second glance our way. As for the horse, we set it free. Neither of us could figure out how to maneuver it properly, and we sure weren't gonna sacrifice it for meat just because we got tired of dry crackers.

Ever since yesterday we've decided to stay in this old, abandoned shack. We haven't experienced any extremely bad weather, but occasional violent winds did swell the orange polythene walls.

Lachlan begins to unbutton his blended blue vest and removes the top hat from his head, slightly putting his hair out of place. ''Guys, I'm beat. It's been a pretty long day.''

''Same.'' Malik utters.

''What, really?'' I ask. Sweeping my gaze around the small room that we're all in, I force a smile to graze my features. ''You guys don't wanna wait and see who died today?''

Lachlan ponders it for a little bit but then eventually decides on, ''Nah. As long as we're not dead, I think I can take one day off.'' As he takes his place on one of the broken-down beds, he says, ''Do you mind keeping watch for a few hours, Aspen? I just figure that—''

''It's no problem. You guys can rest. I struggle to get sleep at night, anyways, so I don't mind.'' It doesn't take too long for the two of them to accept my volunteering, but I still turn towards Malik's disheveled appearance and encourage, ''Get some shut-eye.''

''Wake us up if anything happens,'' Malik advises.

''And if you're hungry, the beef and biscuits that I got from the town earlier today are in the drawstring bags. They're somewhere at the bottom, in bowls with plastic lids on them,'' Lachlan informs, before turning to his side and sighing.

It doesn't take long before the two of them are breathing steadily, without worry or fear. And I'm just here, bored, sitting on the cement floor of our shack.

I decide to get up and walk over to a dusty glass window and take a look outside. Right now is when I remember why I've become so uncomfortable with the dark. Time takes its own pace. I remain hidden within the non-existent lights of nightfall, staring out at the trees.

My heart throbs in fear as I barely stand up against the stool. The sky's hidden above by blackness, with only one sound to be heard: the sound of my own pulse slamming against my ears. _You can't do this._

Hours go by, and still no anthem has played. What's taking them so long? A cannon _did_ blast today, I'm sure of it. Even if one didn't, they always recap the showing of no deaths. Is it even actually late enough, or are the Gamemakers playing tricks on us and making it look darker for some odd reason?

Whatever, I guess.

Time trickles by, marked only by how much darker and darker it gets outside. My mind's blank; where there should be dreams and pleasant images is nothing but a heavy darkness. My eyes are stationary as the silhouettes of the equipment in this room make the form of a human, and I nearly scream.

You could describe my insomnia like being drunk all night, but without any of the fun that comes along with it. Actually, it's boring as hell. I haven't gone through any mattresses yet, but I'm certain that picking out my favorite would be more amusing than this. Perhaps I should go to sleep, too. It'll be difficult, but it's worth a try.

And why wake up either Malik or Lachlan? They're both resting well, and making them get up just because I feel that I could gain, what, two hours of sleep, is selfish. Nah. But just as I'm about to take a seat on one of the unoccupied beds, I hear a quiet _hoot_.

Racing back to the window, I spot it. _The owl._ It has the head of a perfect peach, and its body is shaped like an almond, except coated in feathers that are the color of vanilla. From its location in a tall, skinny tree, it peers at me with its alien eyes. I've always been fascinated by this creature, but to see one so close, so _real_ , I can't help but feel some type of way.

Its world is three dimensional, simple. It lives moment-to-moment, unaware of mortality and unfazed by moral dilemmas. It hunts, it sleeps, it reproduces. There's something to envy about the creature, but also something to love. It also has no boundaries.

In the inky sky, I watch as it swoops down on a fleeing lizard using its natural senses, grasping the animal with little to no effort, its talons sinking deeply into the lizard's living flesh. And just like that, it flies away, hooting, as if it has some sort of deeper meaning.

 _...And it does._

Suddenly, the silence surrenders to the haunting sound of footsteps and laughter – the two variations lurking closer to me. A narrow stream of light flashes from some sort of skinny object – probably a flashlight – and three shadows stand still; two females, one male. Someone points to our once secluded haven, and my heart drops.

My breathing becomes heavy and rapid, and I'm trying so hard to avoid making a sound. Each second plays on forever as I stand still, listening to the approaching conversation of my likely murderers. This area's not safe anymore, and I realize that almost a bit too late.

Before I know it, the three tributes make it to the entrance of the shack, but they haven't opened the door yet. As quickly as I can, and with as much force as possible, I begin to drag a small wooden sideboard and ram it into the door as soon as someone begins to creak it open.

For a brief moment, I glance into the pale blue eyes of a slim girl with curly red hair. Although she's not in the room with me right now, I know that the initial shocked look on her face has been replaced with a deranged smile.

I can basically _feel_ her aura from behind the door, and I don't like it.

A sweet and caressing giggle escapes someone's mouth, but it's not intent on providing anything nice. ''Looks like we got one!''

Slowly backing up, I stay hidden within the darkness, feeling every bead of sweat that dribbles down my face. ''Guys...'' I whisper, watching the door continue to be pushed against. ''Guys..!''

A sharp, shiny blade stabs through one frame of the wooden door, followed by another. Again and again, the attack continues, until they can take a look through and see exactly who's inside.

I stand up, quickly brushing the dirt from my clothes and willing myself to do something productive for once. Backed against the wall with Lachlan and Malik both sleeping on one side of me each, and a window directly above my dark brown hair, I try to think, think, _think!_

In a flash of shock and dread, I twitch nervously, my body frozen. Out of sight, someone reveals, ''There's three of them in there!''

Whether or not I like it, I'm restricted to cowering in the presence of my two dozing allies. For each noise that these other tributes make, my ears become sharper, picking up the delicate and unnoticeable things that aren't easily spotted: their calm and prepared breathing, the wind's light tapping on the windows, and their feet scuffling against the ground outside hurriedly.

 _ **''Guys!''**_

* * *

 **Aurora Maran, District One**

* * *

If I can do this right, maybe I'll earn Camille's respect. Maybe Mom and Dad will feel that they did something right with me; not just because I'm in the Games, but because they'll be proud of me again.

Proud of me for the second time ever in my life.

As Camille continues to hammer her axe into the wooden door, I position myself in a way so I can see what's going on inside and not be hit by her blade when she brings her arm back. The little boy who was cowering a second ago is now up on his two feet, slapping both of his allies awake.

Both of them are grumpy, and one of them even yells at him. It only takes him pointing at the door for them to realize the hostile situation that they're in. The boy with the Eleven on his shoulder springs up to his feet in a hurry and dives for the ground where his equipment is seated.

Just then do I realize the axe that he reaches for and takes hold of. ''Aether, take the back,'' I insist, ''they might have an escape route there. I'll take the window on the right.''

You'd think this was just a normal tactical strategy, right? But it's not. I wanna get in there and be the first one to claim a kill. I just love the rush that I get when I try to out best someone at their own game, and this game that us Careers play always has to do with kills. If this were ballet, I'd destroy the competition; but since it's the Games, and I _know_ that I'm capable of racking up kills if I really try, then I'm going in as best as I can.

Plus, the window's the easiest way to enter. With Camille focused on the barricaded door and Aether turning his attention away from the open view, I've got the best chance at infiltrating their little shack. Right as I raise my chain whip up into the air, I come to a halt.

 _Can I really do this? Can I actually kill someone?_

The outside painting of the shack makes me think for a moment. Every color is bold and designed with such precise lines. They're curved yet sharply defined; they look so stable, but they also look like they'll tumble at the same time. _Like you._ I feel like this paint shines more than I do. I'm just in the background, behind all my other allies who are confident in what they're doing, like there isn't any substance to me.

''Aurora!'' Camille shouts, pushing through the door after finally chopping it free enough so that she can jump over the added weight. ''What are you doing?!''

Hastily, I slam the chain whip as hard as I can against the window, shattering it open with one hit. I carefully place my legs through it and enter the open-spaced room, masking my insecurities with a smile.

''You took _that_ long to get inside?'' Camille asks, right when Aether enters through the window that I broke.

''Relax, Camille.'' Aether looks back-and-forth between the two of us, slightly confused. With both my hands up in a calming pose, I continue, realistically speaking to her. ''We're three trained Careers, and they're three regular tributes. We're in no need to rush. All three of them aren't escaping, and that's just the truth.''

''Fuck you!'' the one with the vest curses. His clothes are different from the others, but just like Eleven, he's got a bag in one hand, ready to go. The other hand, though, is reaching into his pocket, _searching_.

Without another sound, the Eleven boy hurls his backpack at the window near the trio with overwhelming strength – and, with one last look at us, one filled with utter disgust, he grabs the hand of his younger ally, waits for the one with the vest to jump through, and then makes his way out.

Cold air sears into my nostrils as Aether leaps past me, poised and so focused on his target that he doesn't even pay attention to either Camille or me. Every vibration of his footfalls smacking against the cement floor makes me wish that I thought of doing that first.

He grabs the little boy's ankle just as he gets his entire body out of the window, wagging his finger side-to-side and shaking his head, before yanking him back into the room. The boy's grip wasn't strong, as his body flings backward, his legs skidding across the fractured glass.

I try not to stare at him as he lets out a blood-curdling scream, but my eyes keep diverting back to his crumpled body. One moment his legs are obediently escaping, and the next they're rested on a bloody mess that had been perfectly clean only moments before; so clean that I can't even recall what they looked like.

''All right, Aether,'' Camille purrs, drawing closer to both boys. Per usual, Aether remains silent, coolly staring down at the boy from Twelve. He stretches his arm back to unsheathe his sickle-chain-like weapon, his motions continuous even as the Eleven boy screams out for his ally.

It's unfortunate, really. He desperately tries to come back for his partner – friend, ally, brother – but the other one restricts him from doing so, screaming that all three of them will die if they return. And that's the truth. Eventually their footsteps disappear, and now it's three-on-one.

''W-Wait! We can't— I mean—'' I stammer, pausing in between my words. ''Look. Aether, your wrist's still injured. You don't have to kill him. Why don't we let him choose who he wants his killer to be? I mean, it's the least we can do...''

Aether looks down at me, then at Camille, and then back at me again – all three of us have our weapons out, ready to strike. ''You sure?''

I see Camille roll her eyes, but I do my best to ignore her completely. ''Yeah.'' The boy's – Aspen is his name – eyes light up with fear as he scans the three of us. I don't know how to phrase 'Who do you want to end your life', so instead I whisper, ''I'm sorry.'' _Oh, who's kidding. You already did._

With shaky hands and glistening tears, he points directly at me. Aether lets go of the boy and turns his back to him, offering me an ''All yours,'' and Camille respectively stands back, tilting her head with a close-mouthed smile.

In his eyes, he stares at me with a horrendous and desolate glint that no boy his age should ever possess. _Make it quick and clean, Aurora. No dragging it out._

As my hands tremble and my posture fails to please me, an edge of temper creeps into my expression. People watching back at home can see that I'm hesitant on ending his life, because _I'm_ _not ready_. Surely Aether and Camille can see that it's not right, as well.

Again comes an error, as my foot struggles to lead me into the proper stance, worse this time. I've gotta do this accordingly, or else he'll bleed out and I'll look like a fool for not remembering basic procedures. _Are you really thinking about how much you suck when a kid is about to die?_

''Hello?'' Camille torments, except she doesn't know it.

On impulse, as if Camille's words were a trigger of some sort, I flick my wrist as hard as I can and watch as the chain's blade plunges into his heart, slightly left of his breastbone. _A perfect shot._ His whimpering pleads are silenced immediately, his eyes bursting wide open – hurt and thankful at the same time.

Aspen chokes up blood a second later, and then he drops. Quick, clean, and easy … just like that. With my hands still shaking slightly, I pull my weapon out of the boy, disgusted by how easily it slips out with a _pop._

 _Boom!_

With ease, I look away from his dead body, avoiding both of my allies' gazes. He's really _gone._ None of this would've happened if I hadn't opened up my mouth and invigorated the idea of finding someone tonight; none of this would've happened if I had just let Aether slit the boy's throat; none of this would've happened if—

''Didn't expect you to go through with it, sweetie. Good job on your first kill,'' Camille congratulates, placing a hand on my shoulder. ''You've proved that you can actually work well in this environment and that you're not just a pretty bimbo like your District portrays your girls to be.''

I can't tell whether or not she's taking shots at me, but I _hate_ when people compare me to the stereotypical image of One. I don't like hearing that she wasn't sure of me either. Doubted. _Not only by your parents, but even your own allies._

''But you did good. Don't you think she did good, Aether?''

Aether and I have never been close, but in this one moment where we lock eyes and he stares into my soul, I can tell that his words are genuine. ''Yeah, she did. I think we should go back to the cornucopia now. Aurora and I are tired. But if you wanna continue hunting, you can go on ahead. We're gonna head back.''

Briskly, Aether locks his fingers with mine and pulls me forward. He opens the door for me and waits until I'm out before looking back at Camille and gesturing for her to follow, and then coming back to my side.

I pause and sigh. ''Thank you...'' Casting my eyes to ground, I can feel them darken. There's no need to raise my head, because I already know. He can easily hear the sound of pain in my voice.

—none of this would've happened if I wasn't so focused on looking good for the people whose opinions only weigh me down.

* * *

 **25th - Lucretia Hanover, District Six  
**

 **24th - Aspen Northill, District Twelve**

* * *

 **Emma, aw, Lucretia was a bitch, honestly. As a character, I loved writing for her. It was amusing, really. As a person, I probably couldn't stand her in real life. She was the last spot I filled, but she wasn't any less of a joy than the rest. I wasn't exactly sure where I wanted to go with her. She's been a mean, spoiled brat for her entire life, so I wasn't sure if changing her in the Games after two days was gonna be all that realistic. I mean, if she were captured and whipped or something, I'm sure I could've gone all out and gave her a complete makeover, but I didn't wanna go that route. Just the hints of hesitation that she showed at the later stages in her POV was enough for me, but she was who she was - bitchy Lucretia. She was a blast, really. Although she acted entitled and didn't get exactly what she wanted in the Capitol, she still had it all back in Six. And now she's got the woman she's never met in her life - her mom. R.I.P.  
**

 **Linc, Aspen was a bundle of joy. Seriously, the kid was so innocent. He was polite, clueless, and stupid in a way, but it all tied up well. I loved that his relationships with his family and friends really shaped who he was and kept him as the same person until his last breath. I wanted him to have an alliance from the beginning, but I wasn't sure where to put him. Lachlan and Malik seemed to be the best place, and it worked out, in a way. I didn't know where to place him plot-wise. The kid wasn't gonna get any kills, and his position in the alliance wasn't all that helpful. Malik and Lachlan carried most of the work, and the Gamemakers probably would've gotten bored of him sooner or later. Instead of a drawn-out mutt death, I figured letting him choose his maker was the most suitable option. At least he was able to be fascinated by his obsession minutes before his death - I'd say that put him at ease for a little bit. R.I.P.**

* * *

 **A/N: Ayeee! Ya boy's not dead, fuck Irma. Nah, but seriously, prayers out to those who were severely affected. It hit over here hard, but I'm just thankful nothing too bad occurred. We got flooding throughout the city, basically, tons of debris with home damage, trees flying everywhere, and a whole bunch of other stuff that's been cleaned up. The power's switched on and off for the past few days, and it was literal hell without it. Hot af, same music on repeat, nothing to do. I guess it worked out in some way, as I was able to finally start on a book that I should've read back at the beginning of year, so ha! On the plus side, the water was cooler, so showers were nice. I tried to sleep through the storm, was woken up, went out to the patio and got hit by a flying brick but it's all gucci, I suppose.  
**

 **Anyway, got this chapter up sooner than expected. This shouldn't have been so long. Aurora's POV kinda dragged on a bit, but that's because I was having the most fun writing it. I usually try to keep all POVs the same length, but my bad on this one. Not much else to say but this: some people are gonna have multiple POVs in chapters that aren't totally spaced out and not everyone will be shown before someone has two POVs. Basically, this story is gonna fall in line with the deaths I've got planned and when they happen. That doesn't mean your tribute doesn't have any significance, but I could be plotting something big for them later and just be building it up within other POVs, whether you recognize it or not.**

 **'Kay, that's all. Lemme know your opinions and any predictions you might come up with judging by these previous POVs. I hope you're all doin' fantastic wherever y'all are at and are having a good time. I'ma go finish up this book. See y'all next chapter ^**


	16. Misery

**Day Four:**

* * *

 _I tell them boys to place it safe,  
Don't lay in your grave._

* * *

 **Aether Cynephris, District One**

* * *

A triangle of white light advances from the porch and into the living room, over the glass window, which lies stationary. Despite the beautiful view, I can't come to an appease that'll satisfy me.

It's kind of ironic to me. Someone like me, who loves being isolated, is surrounded by five other teammates — allies, each of them with the possibility of having limited time left to live, including me. I just can't find an escape from anything anymore.

Being alone has now become more of an anguish rather than a salvation… Somewhere in the back of my mind, these unreachable and ridiculous dreams just keep creeping forward — almost as if they're trying to take over me completely.

With an attempt to clear my mind of despair, I quietly turn my body toward the rest of my allies. Aurora's quietly relaxing; Camille is taking a bite out of an energy bar; and Cassian, Odessa and Sota are playing some type of game a sponsor sent.

It's enough to clear their boredom, I suppose. With how quiet it's been, I don't blame the viewers for wanting to see _some_ action — even if that requires the use of a game.

Aurora settles before the three of them and squats down to their level with a big smile. ''What's the game? I haven't been paying much attention, but the look on Cass's face makes me curious.''

Odessa peers at Aurora, her face resolutely still. ''There's a bunch of past Games present on this holographic game board, and we just have to list the order of twenty-fourth to first and name who killed who. Miss one and a point is removed; get it correct and a point is added. We just take turns.''

''Who's up?'' Aurora genuinely looks attracted to the game, but it'd be a waste for her to hop in now. They're down to the last six remaining tributes.

Cass opens up his eyes, offering a nod to Aurora. ''Me,'' he answers happily, ''and the one that placed sixth was … Kaden Orriese. Josephine Inoa killed him, final answer!''

''You're actually pretty damn stupid,'' Shota laughs. ''We're on the one hundredth and fifty-eight Games; Josephine was in the fifty-seventh, and she didn't even make it that far.''

Adding on to the insults, Camille states, ''There's literally a list of the remaining tributes' names right there, dumbass.''

''Okay, whatever. Calm down. Y'all take this way too seriously.'' With a sigh of frustration, Cassian attempts to pick himself off of the floor, but before he can, Aurora throws herself onto his back, knocking him to the floor in a pit of goofiness.

''Go easy on him, he didn't know, guys,'' she defends him. ''And don't you dare give up on this game now, I'm trying to beat you next.''

Eventually the game ends with Odessa victorious as her answer of Travis Marvani from One winning those Games being the correct ending. Shortly after that they begin a new game, with both Camille and Aurora joining in now.

''Aether, wanna play?'' Odessa offers.

With a head shake, I decline her offer and go back to staring out of the window. Bringing my hand up to the light, I stare at the bullet wound. No more blood, and the exit wound is somewhere resting on the back of the wraps.

Was it worth receiving? Yes. Yes, it was. Gideon's safe because I took the hit, and he's not dead yet for all I know, but he could be in a brutal fight right now. Or… or maybe he's safe. That's a thought.

You know what? That's what kills me the most. It's just a thought, just a figure of my mind. Just when I think I can control what travels through my brain, here fate comes taking a new turn. The emotions come quickly like unexpected hands on the wheel of a car, swerving off to a different lane without warning.

Why is it always that every fraction of my mind wanders a path that brings so much internal grief? It's not like these destinations are untrodden, but it seems impossible to stick to one path. I wanna be safe with Gideon … I want him to be part of the group … but I know that he's an enemy to them, and that makes me feel guilty.

Maybe the guilt is a warning that only more and more sorrow will come flooding in if I don't make the right decision. Yet that only brings in days like this where I want to scream out all of my unsaid words, but nothing exits my throat — and I guess that's for the best.

As soon as I begin to calm down, something Cassian says stands out to me on a personal level.

''It sucks that all of those dead tributes could've been parents with families and kids of their own,'' he sighs. ''Kind of frightening that we can all relate when this is all said and done.''

The bitter shards of glass that once held together an old window litter on the floor, providing the house with a sense of a cynical past. They lie on the floor like a million tiny daggers with the light from the sun violently shining on them.

I can feel everyone's gaze eerily stick to me as the scarlet blood oozes down my forehead to my chin, landing in thick, spattered droplets.

''Hey, guys,'' I breathe, standing up from my position and reaching for my kusarigama. Even from the corner of my eyes I can see the shock in Cassian and Sota's eyes, the worry in Aurora's, and the expressionless yet almost-there quiver in both Odessa and Camille's faces. ''How about we go kill some people?''

Maybe it's Career-like, yes, but I don't care for murdering kids as much as I care for finding Gideon. Is it an obsession, a deadly crush? Maybe. A worthless dream? For sure. But I can't not _try_ to reach him.

At the end of the day, though, no-one gets hurt except for me. That's the status-quo. For better or for worse, who knows?

* * *

 **Malik Sherman, District Eleven**

* * *

Flashes of Aspen's face continue to recollect in my mind. There's absolutely no way for me to forget about him.

How his expression turned from scared to relieved, like he accepted death's embrace. He knew he was gonna die, and so did we, but we could've stopped it.

... _I_ could have stopped him from dying.

Every little thing brings his face back to my mind. Maybe I didn't know him for that long, yeah, but when you build a bond with someone in a situation like this, it's almost hard not to think about what could've been.

I can only imagine how cold his flesh must've been. Maybe even colder than this disgusting mud Lachlan and I are trudging through. His ivory skin was probably spattered and submerged in gritty blood. Three Careers against one little kid — I mean, what kind of shit is that?

And to think, if his killers are persistent, we could be leading them directly towards us right now. Our boot impressions lead so far back that it would be all the evidence they'd need to come and cut our heads off.

Then what, is Lachlan gonna leave me in the dry, too? Is he just gonna let me die, too, and then run away like a—!

''You all right, Malik?'' Lachlan questions, coming to a halt. Instead of stopping myself and answering, I continue to walk, and he accompanies me from behind once more. ''If there's something on your mind, we can talk about it, y'know.''

The air around us is so brittle that it feels as if it could snap at any moment, and if it doesn't, I surely might. Other than Lachlan's previous sentences, nothing more is said. What even is there to say?

I can feel the fear and guilt in my chest waiting to take over me completely. Everything about it propels me to an anxiety that I don't need in my life. It makes me feel like there's no more hope left. We had a group with a stable relationship, and now it just feels like everything is slowly crumbling apart until there's nothing left.

With the sudden loss of my balance, I come to a heavy halt and clutch at my chest, breathing frantically. I can't believe that it didn't hit me before, didn't make me understand because of how much fun I was having in the Capitol. Death is always around the corner…

The clock's ticking for each and every single one of us, and it's like I'm literally counting down the seconds — minutes, hours, days, weeks — that I have left to live. With the feelings of a child I reach out, my fingers extended and my other hand on my chest, gripping tight.

I had a choice of either kindness or cruelty. How is it that my decisions now only seem to be getting worse and worse?

The sound of a bag unzipping goes through one ear and out the other, and Lachlan is at my side in no time with a delicate expression on his face and a water bottle in his hand. Rapid slaps hit my back with a medium force, causing me to grow … frustrated.

''Get off of me!'' I nearly scream, slapping Lachlan away from me. The water bottle jolts out of his hand and lands buried in the mud.

He doesn't try to shrug off my shift in attitude like he's been doing all morning. Instead, he acknowledges the break in our relationship and calls me out on it. ''The hell is wrong with you, man?''

A snicker almost escapes my chapped lips. ''So you can come to my rescue but you couldn't save our other ally?''

''That's why you've been acting like this?'' he accuses, shifting his stance to defensive. ''It was three Careers against three outer district tributes. Who did you think was going to logically win?''

''We had a gun!'' I bring up, astounded that he's forgetting that fact. It sits in his pocket, untouched, unused. ''You could've killed one of them — maybe all of them, for crying out loud!''

''Yeah, a gun with three bullets, Malik,'' he claims. ''You think I wasn't weighing that option? It was too risky. What would happen if I missed all three shots, then what? I wasn't gonna get a collateral.''

In this moment, I feel like crying as rage fills deep into my gut. Feelings that I haven't felt in a while begin to reappear. My ears are starting to get hot, and my voice begins to rise above the tense silence. ''You couldn't have gotten one? Force them to retreat, or even scare them off? Nobody had to die, why can't you get that through your thick skull?!''

He sneers at me and then laughs, adding on to my anger. ''Then what if they hunted us down again, what type of feelings do you think they'd have towards us? They'd be vengeful and ready to kill us without hesitation, and that wasn't a risk I was willing to take, dammit!''

The glare that he gives me is filled with hatred in his dull eyes. Then, he laughs again.

''This is funny to you?'' I snap, reaching for the handle of my axe. Lachlan's eyes travel down to my hands, and then back up to me.

With a lunge forward, Lachlan startles me slightly by getting right up into my face and cocking his head moderately. The quarrel continues, his face brightening to a crimson tone. ''Whatcha gonna do, kill me? Do it! Do it!''

He's at my throat like a savage dog, fighting over dominance; and then, all of his malice disappears without a trace left.

''When did it become so insignificant? We used to be so full of life, and then the next thing you know we're practically through four days into the Games.'' Providing a slight shrug, he continues. ''...Maybe there's nothing more left to offer. I feel like I don't know you anymore, and I'm not gonna stay in a rocky alliance. You can do your own thing, and I'll do mine.''

The shakiness in his voice shows that he's obviously scared, and so am I. The thought of going solo frightens me beyond belief, but the damage is done.

''Give me the gun.''

''What? Get out of here with that crap,'' he says, serious as can be. ''You can have two of the bags, and I'll take the gun. I gained this fair and square, it's mine.''

Without further words, I quickly remove my axe from its sheath and strike out at Lachlan. He jumps away just in time from getting hacked, but I still draw a thin line of blood across his chest. His left foot buckles, and that's all I need.

I extend my left arm and squeeze his throat forcefully enough to the point where it feels like a few veins are gonna pop. Following the initial attack, I bring my knee up to his abdomen, knocking him down with brute force.

''Let go of me you stupid bi—!'' he tries to shout, but the wooden knob of my axe slamming into his temple shuts him right up. He suddenly takes on a pale look, his lips barely there. While Lachlan is slumped on the ground, I take full advantage and collect the gun from his pocket, empty out all of the bags and place all of the life-sustaining necessities into two of them.

I don't know why I can't bring myself to kill him. What's been done is enough, and there aren't anymore feelings towards the group that we once were. Picking up the bag filled with little food and water, I place it by his head, watching it become coated with blood at the bottom. He can keep his switchblade, too, I guess.

With a final look, I take one step backwards, crumpling slightly due to the burning sensation in my eyes, and take off through the mud.

* * *

 **Gracie Sullivan, District Ten**

* * *

I take comfort in the gentle sounds of nature. About fifty paces behind the murmuring waters of this beautiful creek and I, there stands the residence that I'm bound to. The only pleasures I find in this circumstance are that I'm in charge of tending to the horses and have a collection of books that I can live my fantasies through.

These majestic creatures are my only joy. Their soft eyes that I could stare into forever … to me, they reflect a promise — a promise of freedom.

'Ayana' is what they named the beauty that stands in front of me. With a heart made of love and a gorgeous piebald coat, she's always around to calm this endless storm that I'm trapped in.

Yesterday this stream was polluted, but with my help it's become so clear now — so much so that I can see the smoothness of the rocks underneath it. No more sickness for the surrounding community, and no more murky depths.

It's almost like a symbol of how far I can go. Maybe it's just me thinking too much, but what was once dead is now full of life. Kind of … free, you could say — and that's all I wish to be.

But it's much more than just a wish. It's an ideal ending, a plan for me to overcome this challenge and win the Games. Sure, I may not be the most athletic, and I might have my quirks due to my autism, but that doesn't automatically count me out.

I'm just as capable of winning as anybody else..!

Tilting my head downwards, I reread my favorite section of this old book that I took from the farm cabin. It's bound in green leather, dry with age, filled with a disgusting smell of dust, but the appearance of the book isn't what matters to me. The story is filled with intense action and war, and in the end the main heroine escapes from her capturers on horseback.

 _They'd come looking for her soon, but she was far gone. Now it was just her, the icy cold wind, and the wildlife surrounding her, appearing to be rejoicing in the strong winds as she held tight to the saddle. With all of the tears and ill feelings left behind, she raised her hands in the midst of her journey, as if she were reaching for something — something that she finally got a hold of._

I smile softly. _That will be you soon._ _Wait patiently for your moment to strike, and then make the most of your opportunity._ There will be enough time for this plan to work. When everyone in the house is asleep, I'll take my leave with Ayana. Simple as that.

The air is sweet and refreshing, giving me a feeling of no worry — and I'm gonna savour every moment of it.

Or so I thought. As soon as I hear the wooden door swing open, I quickly stuff the book back into my skirt. I turn calmly, only to see the sweaty frame of my apparent 'Massa'. There are dark stains under his pits which cause me to slightly cringe. The thought of him getting anywhere near me is gross…

''What's wrong with Ayana, chile?'' he asks, face as neutral as ever.

''Nothing, sir. She's just tired.''

He spits on the grass and motions for me to come inside. ''How many times must I tell you to call me 'Massa Vernn'?'' I can't help but feel disgusted, no onlookers should miss the look on my face. If I'm being honest, his kind makes my skin crawl. _So repulsive._

He continues, the heat of his sweat creating a sheen on his neck. ''It is of trifling importance that we proceed inside on 'tis prodigious warm day. Young Elizabeth has made her return with her chuckaboo.''

Turns out that the chuckaboo of Elizabeth — Vernn's snobby and rude child — is her friend. Must be some type of slang that I don't understand.

On entering the house, I see Elizabeth and her friend sitting around the dining table. Vernn takes a seat at the head of it and tells me to come sit. There's corn and beans, pork, butter, beef, vegetables and cow milk in different baskets for us to feast on.

As everybody else digs in, I can't help but want to be alone again. Despite that, I'm still hungry, so I might as well take full advantage of what the other tributes probably don't have.

'''Twas it a splendid learning day, Elizabeth?'' Vernn asks his daughter as he cuts his pork, never taking his eyes off of her.

She hesitates to answer, which I've noticed she does when she knows her father won't be happy with her. ''Well…''

''No, sir, it was not,'' Elizabeth's friend answers for her. ''Elizabeth was nanty narking and teasing Ms. Doyle's fly rink rather than focusing on her studies.''

''Georgina!'' screams Elizabeth. Both of these girls are around my age, their material shouldn't be that difficult to comprehend. I bet I was learning the same thing with Gabby that they're learning now.

In the beaming chandelier light overhead, I can clearly make out Vernn's angered expression. ''Fie!'' Within seconds he's up, both hands pressed against the table with deep-seeded frustration. ''Quit being a church-bell, dammit!''

''Papa,'' Elizabeth sobs, ''don't bubble around me! I was—!''

''Do _not_ sell me a dog!'' There's no response from anyone for about thirty seconds; the only audible sound is Vernn's heavy breathing. ''Damned if I know if you have been noble with your previous tellin's! Compared to you, this chile,'' he points to me, ''seems to be the jammiest bit of jam! I—''

Swiftly interrupting his speech, a maid of the house crosses through the threshold leading into the eating room, gasping with urgency. ''Massa Vernn, Massa Delio says there be sight'ins of an uncaptured fella.''

Without further conversation, Vernn vanishes to the front of the cabin and flies out of the shelter. Elizabeth's sobs grow quieter and quieter, eventually leading to loud footsteps slamming up the stairs.

I should probably feel some sort of pity for the girl, but I don't. It was hard for me to tell before, but just like the kids that used to pick on me, she's done the same — I so happened to catch on this time around. Yesterday, specifically, was torment. Looks like people really do get bitten back, that's just how it goes.

All I know is, I don't care for anything getting in the way of my escape. Everything for this plan to work is set in stone in my head, so nothing's allowed to mess it up.

My whole life is resting on this, after all.

* * *

 **Chayona Watt, District Three**

* * *

I gaze at my reflection in the wall-mounted looking glass, getting a clear view of what everybody else sees. Instead of honey brown skin, I see ashy patches and purple bruises; instead of wide, open eyes, I see red rims and swelling.

My lips tremble as I struggle to remember how long the beating had lasted. My eyes can't help themselves from roaming to features of my body that have changed and cataloging it in my brain.

''Hey,'' Imogen mutters as she enters the bathroom, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. ''Everything all right?''

I heave a lengthy sigh. ''Everything's splendid. Don't worry about me.'' I know I haven't said it upright, but she shouldn't have to check up on me every thirty minutes.

Coming to an understanding of her own, Imogen steps away from me. For a moment, she holds tight against the doorknob and asks, ''You still want to go through with this?''

''Yes!'' My head snaps upward with determination. Imogen gets startled from the sudden rise of my voice, prompting me to apologize. ''S-Sorry… I didn't mean to shout, but I don't want to stay here any longer.''

She pauses for a moment before grinning from ear-to-ear. ''Me neither. Tonight's the night we get the hell out of here.''

''What's the state of the household right now?'' I ask, ready to change any course of action.

Imogen shrugs her shoulders, completely unbothered. ''Well, Mr. Hepiner's out in the living room smoking a cigar. His oldest and youngest sons both just took a horse to town, and they said they wouldn't be back for another two days.'' She pauses momentarily. ''The cook is sleeping in the shed, and the rest of the slaves are out cramped together in the locked cabin away from the entrance gate.''

''Good.'' I walk past Imogen and out the bathroom, my limbs feeling as though they don't even belong to me. Everything I do feels like a negotiation; everything just hurts. ''What about the doctor?''

''He's supposed to arrive in thirty minutes — maybe even sooner,'' she reassures. ''That's what Mr. Hepiner said, at least.''

I slowly drag my feet across the polished tiles, drawing a question out of Imogen. ''Where are you going?''

''To make sure that his son's a-asleep,'' I answer, making sure that the stutter in my voice isn't noticeable. ''You go check up on Mr. Hepiner.''

As we both go our separate ways and I enter the middle child's room, I can't help but make note of how uncomfortably large it is. The floor's made of concrete, the walls are white, and the furniture appears to be only high-end — like something you'd see back in the Capitol.

There's a soft jazz melody that's playing from some sort of recording instrument as a background noise — to help him sleep, I imagine — and multiple accessories in the background. Overall, the room's big enough to fit dozens of children in it, but definitely not a suitable environment…

Guns and knives hang on the walls, sort of like collectibles. It's a hobby, I suppose. A dangerous one.

My eyes catch sight of the nearest weapon, which is only a few feet away from me on a coffee table. Unknowingly, I grip tight against the smooth handle, raising it in the air and catching the gleam in my eye.

I cast my vision downwards, the white of the knife standing out in the darkness. My heart starts to beat a little faster and my palms grow sweaty. Despite my heart being in my throat, the need for revenge is constantly gnawing at my soul, relentless and spiteful.

 _If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be in this mess. There's nothing wrong with showing some emotion._

Even with the color draining from my face, and my legs seemingly being rooted to this one spot, my mind eventually gets the better of me.

...So I _stab_. And I _stab_. And I _stab_ and I _stab_ and I _stab_ , through the sound of hollers and flesh tearing until there's nothing left to hear, completely unconscious to the abundance of feelings that subjugate and drive me crazy.

''Chayona?'' Imogen screams from downstairs.

''Kill him!'' I scream through the sickening smell of metal and mangled flesh blanketing the aroma. ''Kill Mr. Hepiner!''

I hear everything — the sound of struggling, the grunts, the screams — everything. ''Chayona, let's go!'' Imogen calls. ''The doctor's outside, we don't have much time.''

Hurriedly, I place the knife inside of my skirt, positioning it in a way so that I don't get sliced. I race down the stairs and out of the front door, never paying attention to whether Hepiner's actually dead or not. For some reason, I don't think he is. Imogen isn't the type to kill mercilessly, even if it's a mutt. She's not accustomed yet. Or so I don't think.

When we open the gate, we quickly hop into the carriage that the doctor's been riding on. ''Where is Mr. Hepiner?'' he asks. ''Y'all the inja'd ones?''

Nothing but silence. Nighttime has always been known as the time that demons come out to play — in people, spirits, and creatures. Maybe that's why my heart begins throbbing, and the only thing I can think of is sadness.

A small choke works its way out of my throat. ''Take us to where we'll be free.'' The blood from before flows thickly over my fingers, frighteningly cold. That's when I shudder, fast, my entire body feeling numb.

The doctor looks shocked, but his silence is testing my patience. I take the knife from my skirt and wave it at him from the backseat. ''Only places free is up Norf... But y'all ain't gon' make it. Som'body gon' git ya. They lookin' fa slaves like y'all.''

''Then take us South,'' I command, ''and don't tell a soul. There's bound to be _some_ type of freedom down there.''

''So ye' heard 'bout Fort Mose in St. Augustine, Florida, aye?'' Truthfully, I have no idea what any of that means, but obviously the gamemakers are helping us out a bit. Sometimes I forget that these aren't real people, but just mutts instead. ''I can on'ye take y'all so far. I ain't got no clues at to where it is. Y'all'd be dead if I—''

''Shut up and _go_!'' I scream, drawing the knife closer to the man.

''Chay..?''

I don't let Imogen see my emotions. The color of red burns in my mind along with what I just did. Nothing but sickness crawls in me as the blood continues to drip from my hand. But this is a reminder of the reality that we're in.

In order for one of us to win, we have to kill and manipulate and take advantage. The Capitol doesn't like boring tributes — the last time someone won without action was over sixty years ago, they don't do that anymore.

We have to adapt…

... _I_ have to adapt, and if that means killing … well, then so be it.

* * *

 **Krissy McCoy, District Thirteen**

* * *

Without an upwards view, I can already tell that the night is star-speckled and cloudless.

I know that it's some sort of software imitation, but this is one of the prettiest nights I've ever witnessed in my lifetime — my dwindling lifetime.

No cannons, no deaths; just the Capitol seal and Panem's anthem play tonight. So that means there are still twenty-two other tributes alive, excluding me.

Footsteps and the rustling sound of clothing resound in my ears, and if it weren't for the fact that I have three other allies within thirty-five feet of me, I'd be afraid.

Pavel rummages around for a little, taking a step forward and a step backward, turning around and approaching me once more, before finally taking a seat next to me on the deck of this bridge.

''Can you believe that this was built with skill three hundred years ago?'' he says, the look on his face completely genuine. Not at all what I was expecting. ''You don't see ingenuity like that anymore. It's all just machines and technology now, no more hard work.''

I want to laugh at his comment and show some sort of enjoyment, but I can only provide a half-smile. ''Shut up.'' His smile lasts for a good thirty seconds before it fades, though, and then he stares up towards the sky. ''What do you want?''

''Wanted to check up on you,'' he says plainly, providing a small shrug. ''Plus, I'm bored, and the kids are all tucked in.''

''Then go to sleep with them,'' I suggest. ''Sleep the boredom off.''

Currently, he doesn't seem too fond of that idea. ''Nah. Sleeping's boring. See, now if there were instructions on what to do at a time like this, I'd be fine, but there aren't. Why don't we talk instead?''

As always, here he goes trying to find something to do. I guess this boy just can't be put to rest. ''Talk about what?'' I inquire. _Why do we even have to talk? I don't want to talk. Leave me alone._ I truly want to say, though.

''Us,'' he answers, making it seem much more serious than it needs to be. ''The Capitol, the Games, Sebastian and Mackenzie. Thirteen. Whatever. Got any questions, or should I start?''

''Why are you so obsessed with kids?'' I ask, much quicker than I'd have liked to. His facial expression hardens, and his eyebrows furrow threateningly. Judging by the look on his face, I feel as though I'm on thin ice. ''You just seem so fond of them… Do you want like ten kids in the future or something? I don't get the big deal.''

Pavel breathes outwardly in a deep fashion, right before facing the view in front of us. I look along with him, feeling a deep sense of serenity overcome me as I stare at the lakeview. Rays of starlight dance delicately across the water, brightening the finest mirror.

It doesn't show what's above, but it does manifest the smudged and broken images of Pavel and I. _That's how you feel right now._

''I feel that children are undeserving of any punishment — they're too innocent,'' he laughs, masking some deeper feeling. It's clear to see that he's hurt. But I am, too. ''I can't stand to watch them suffer. If I can help out and protect them, then forget everything else.''

''There's more to it, isn't there,'' I say, claiming rather than asking. Leaning sideways, I scoot closer to Pavel and rest my elbows on my knees, staring at him.

It takes Pavel a moment to collect his thoughts and speak. He delays with his answer but ultimately decides to say what's on his mind.

''I doubt you can relate to what I'm about to say, Krissy,'' he whispers, but there isn't any point to whispering — the Capitol probably has enhanced audio; everyone's gonna hear this. ''You weren't born into a life of poverty and misery where you constantly had to fight for your siblings' innocence.''

While his shoulders tremble, my body tenses. ''You ever had kids tease you and tell you that you're only alive because your mother's a whore — because she sleeps with teachers and all sorts of 'customers' that come around?'' _No … I haven't._ ''Imagine having multiple different siblings, and all of you have different fathers that you don't even know about. Hell, I lost count of how many siblings I have! It's always been one after another. And _another_. And _another_. And _another!_ ''

Pity. That's all I feel, but what good is telling Pavel 'I'm sorry that you had to go through that'? ''To make matters worse, my younger brother puts himself in stupid situations that could screw us all over. I'd literally die for him, but nothing I say works. He's gonna get our family fucked over, but he doesn't deserve what might come to him — none of them do!''

''Hey—''

''Not only that, but the second youngest, he got..!''Pavel wants to snap, but he stops.'' _He got what?_ ''It's just that Mackenzie and Sebastian remind me of the two of them — Sebastian's so innocent-looking like Asim, and Mackenzie's a fighter like Solon. I hate having to picture two of my brothers in the Games with me. I feel like I have to protect them at all costs. I hate waking up every morning knowing that I was born into this.''

''But you want to win,'' I bring to light, ''and what about them? What about us?''

''That's what's killing me on the inside,'' he claims. ''If I win, everything will be all right. I can take care of all of them and raise the youngest by myself, but it'll come at the cost of you three.'' Truth be told, I wanna know more about all of his siblings. So far I know of three, but he hasn't told me everything. ''If I get out of here, life won't be filled with distress anymore.''

If I'm being honest here, I feel selfish. I've been listening to his story for the past … however many minutes, but he doesn't know much about me. _Correction: You mean he doesn't know that half of the things he just said, you've forgotten already._

I hate myself so much for feeling so withdrawn that my mind's been clouded. My body feels depraved, and I can't stop myself from doing unconscionable acts. Furiously, I scratch at my neck, at my arms, at my back, but he doesn't seem to notice.

''Don't say _if_ ,'' I encourage, but it doesn't truly mean anything to me. ''Don't try to sound so wise and imagine the possibilities. Make them come to life.''

I'm bullshitting him.

''Take your time and be the babe that the Capitol sees you as. Just … slow down your blood. Breach your mind, and stop thinking of what went and might go wrong.''

Pavel gives me a thankful smile, and I want to return it, but I'm too far gone in my craving. Everything that I've thought about and held dear is falling by wayside: my past, my family, my alliance.

I'll lie my way through, steal, kill — if I really have to — if that means that I can get Gerald and Tienya to send me more. I can't help myself. I can't help not being able to function, not being able to listen, and not being able to stop myself from missing the easiness that morphling provides me with.

At this point, I'm just grieving. I got a slight, familiar taste of peace. I feel horrible, but it doesn't matter anymore. It feels like the Devil's here, sitting on my shoulder, trying to whisper in my ear — trying to influence my bad habits and make me convert.

You know what? I can't even sleep, think, or communicate at this point. I feel like a vegetable, and there's nothing I can do about it.

 _Fuck it._ Why not sink into my desires?

* * *

 **No Deaths**

* * *

 **A/N: Hey hey, miss me? Anyway, your favorite 17-year-old by the name of Ans is back. I missed this, ngl. I don't have much of an excuse for my absence, if you want me to be honest. Basically, I had problems with my old computer and it restarted on me every now and then, and eventually just shut off. All my saved plans and ideas and even my placement list was erased, 'cuz I didn't have them on docs. As you can tell, I was really unmotivated and frustrated with that, so I neglected this for a while. Not to mention, I wanna apologize severely for the upcoming deaths, because more than likely some who are dying soon were probably supposed to make it further, and maybe even win, idk. New ideas, new everything. Yeah, so I had to improvise, these guys especially since I had a lot planned for them on this specific chapter. Didn't remember everything, but I did as best as I could to add new things and old things with them.**

 **Honestly, it's been a fat minute so sorry if I wrote your character wrong or something, or if I forgot things from previous chapters and whatever here doesn't make much sense. I bet y'all forgot, too, so it's win-win. I apologize, but I did my best to go back without getting bored of reading my own stuff. I felt like this could've been better... not the best at writing conversations or getting everything I want but I tried, don't be too harsh on me. I wanna say that I'll have chapters up soon, but I can't promise that. Graduated HS like a month ago or something and I'm starting University in like a week, so yeah. Also, sorry for not keeping up with anybody that much if I've been in a chat with you on whatever social media. On Skype I lost my password and didn't know the email that I put since it was an old one and all this other shit happened. Life's been busy, but hey, we get through it I guess. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Review, don't review, let me know how you feel, do whatever you want. Have a wonderful day or night or whatever time it is for you wherever you are. See y'all in a bit.**


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